Poetry

The Door

I walked through the door.
It was a nice door,
big, dark brown, wooden frame.
A foot over my head
the top of the door almost touching the ceiling
It was a door, a completely plain and ordinary door
I wish I had payed more attention to the door
because I walked through that door
the only thing I could see was that
no one was looking back at me.

It was late, it was
That's a good excuse for not paying any attention at all
I was late and I walked through the door and no one cared.
I should have been looking at the door, or the ceiling, or the floor all of which could have been perfectly ordinary things to pay attention to.
Because then I wouldn't have been so disappointed to see that there was no one there waiting for me.
But I was not, no one looked back, I didn't inspire any curiosity, did you even hear me? I wasn't paying attention to how loud I was being.
I was looking for you.
I wasn't looking at the door I walked through it, maybe I should have knocked, but you know me, I didn't need an announcement I don't need the attention,
That's an excuse, I don't need it, really,
But I wanted it,
I want everything you have to offer,
but there was nothing there.

So I walked through that door
I was looking for you, but you weren't looking back.
I wish I would have payed attention to something else because clearly the attention that I have to give you is worthless, that door deserved it more than you.
Because maybe I would have run into the door, but now I know not that I'm not going to run into you.
I shouldn't have tried to give you this piece of me, whatever it was that I was trying to give you, maybe someone else would have been there to accept it, maybe I should have left it at the door.
Maybe I should stop thinking about the door because next time I'm not going to open it.
That door is going to stay closed between us until you open it yourself
Because I've walked through that door too many times expecting something that isn't there
You.