Bedroom Door

Forget I felt the slams.
One side of me saw her pain,
the other felt your fists,
pounding for another chance.
I prayed you’d both get it.
Did I delay forgiveness?
I wanted to get it right.

I felt her push me gingerly
one night, whispering good-bye.
I did my best, didn’t I?
I would shut the world out,
then open again.

When I creaked
you silenced me with oil.
Didn’t you know I was trying
to tell you something?
The sneaking in, the sneaking out.

The emptiness of space
before you carried her through:
something about that moment
when life changes.
I most enjoyed the times
you were both tucked in
and I was closed.

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