the long hallway

This love is a long hallway

filled with doors

I’ve opened and closed,

my fingerprints

permanent on their doorknobs.

You’ve walked this hall,

seen these doors,

and when you open

them you don’t seem to mind

the dust in some,

termites in others,

the broken swingsets

tangled film rolls

and poorly exposed photos

chronicling my constant sweeping

demise I keep in a

maintenance closet

(surely you saw that too)

but even then you saw


standing alone

at the end of that hallway

(after everything)

(after it all)

(before you and during you)

and ran, reckless,

abandoning safety

for the danger of my arms,

which promised to catch you.


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