Things That I Close
Things that I close
Windows to not let any
flies and mosquitos in
Doors to not let any
air or heat out of the house as my mother would say,
Jars full of fireflies, if only for a moment
bottles of ketchup, cupboards, faucets
dresser drawers full of old clothes that still smell like you.
You.
I waited 374 days to hear your voice again
to see if my heart still palpitates when you whisper my name.
I starved for closure, like in the middle of a drought, I longed
for a conclusion as if it was water.
Mind, nose,
Eyes when I'm tired,
Mouth-everyone's parent has yelled at them to keep
their mouth closed before
Legs (can go either way)
Books, chapters (life) that you just have to walk away from.
Everything that I can close, I can open
and I can reopen and re-shut.
374 days in and the emotions that I bottled up
exploded freely and fiercely.
Hearts are often left ajar.
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