There's a shoe print
On the front porch
Pointing away
From the tattered red door
It's your shoe size and I know
It's yours
Did it get too crowded for you?
So you had to join them
The shoe prints pointing away
That's ok
There's fingerprints on the doorbell
Two
There's handprints on the door handle
Three
There's shoe prints on the door
The latch is broken
The hinges rusted
There are dents in the metal
Where they banged in
With their weapons
And their words
There's someone waiting on that porch
I've yet to peek out to see their face
Maybe I will one day
Maybe when I'm brave enough they'll be gone
That's ok
There's a little shed behind the gray house
With that red door
It's small,
but warm
And well built
There's a hole in the wall
Someone lit it ablaze and
We're still finding wood to fill
That father shaped hole
In that shed
Behind the gray house with that red door
There's five different kinds of wood
Used to build that shed
It's safe
To run and hide
From the chaos
The loud
Inescapable
Noise
Of the gray house
With that
God-damned
Useless
Red
Door.
the door into my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Head, Heart, and Soul
PoesíaTW: Contains use of profane language, suicidal thoughts, depictions and/or mentions of violent or otherwise disturbing acts, mentions of mental health issues, and other things that may be triggering to some audiences. Read at your own discretion, an...
