This is one of my favorites, written for a friend of mine.
Open mouth, closed mind.
Closed heart.
Shut tight.
No key...
that you know of.
I could be that key,
wrought-iron and sharp-mouthed.
Slipping into your lock. Releasing you
from whatever it is that's
holding you back.
Perfect fit?
I couldn't say.
Yet.
But I'd like to think so.
You draw us in, all of us.
Closely, meticulously, all too aware.
Until we can read that sign
that you've propped up next to that chasm
that is your feelings.
CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE,
it says.
Why don't you let go?
Why can't you?
The pills,
they're an
excuse
that you repeat to yourself, every night,
to keep yourself from wanting.
Conscious,
intangible.
Go ahead and want.
Preferably,
you'd want
me.
But if that's not
an option,
that's
all right.
Really.
I know that you're busy.
