It's like having two doors,
numbered and presented.
But you realize they're not open,
Standing in front of two closed doors.
The handles sealed with locks,
And two long forgotten keys.
Except they never really moved or swung.
And they're not really doors at all.
They're more like windows.
Looking outside to your inside soul.
And when the room is closing around you,
Which one will you choose?
To tear myself apart, to pieces,
While replacing the heart you stole.
Or to pin it to my tattered sleeve,
Where everyone can see.
YOU ARE READING
Euphoria & Woe
ПоэзияSometimes our beasts can't be caged up inside. Sometimes I let my demons dance free among the words that I give to you, my love. Forever for you. (I stole the pictures, that stole my heart.)
