Love and Horror

He felt alive, was able to breathe, and stir his thoughts

About all, that had been happening to him, within the vacancy

That had become his domicile, still furnishing his bare walls

With closed doors, that hush, the stained path forward,

A sky blue door, rich, in its delicately painted strokes,

And like a stone wall, it forces him to stay stranded in the storm,

A heavy downpour, crashing hard upon his vulnerability,

As it never even creaked, staying silent, staying still,

As another door, slowly stretched open, it seemed so inviting

Until it slammed, just as he approached, a sting from the scorpion

Held in the center, protruding from this stone barrier,

He’s been scouring this earth, for too long, a path of thorns

Frame the way, tirelessly painful exchange of moments,

Searching, past the shallow end, only to be stripped apart

And dragged right back, to where I constantly return,

It’s the horror, of this love story, the doors show no weakness,

As he, seems to be stripped down, exposed and discarded,

Yet he rallies, and approaches a new door, becomes the invited

Perched under the grand chandelier, huddled in its shadow,

And then her sees her descend the shapely staircase

As they embrace each other, and float along the melody

Into the depths of time, running it out, together,

Or was he simply, a man pretending, to be there

Dancing, with the ghost of his fantasy?

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