Door

By Holly McClure

The door's hinges swing open and shut. 

Yet of your presence, there is no trace. A 

feeling emerges from deep in my gut; It's 

that you've deserted me in this place. 

This I am bound to finally accept: That 

you're never coming through. I can now 

grasp: I'm who you've left. I hope this 

feeling will subdue. So many familiar 

faces show 

None of which are yours. 

This pit of emotion would finally go If 

only you'd walk through those doors.