Behind the wall

I dance with nightmares

and in the penetration of lust

around a heart that no longer feels

I tell stories to myself

about things it remembers.


Drafts, call from windowpanes

and urge me to the beyond

with next level possibilities,

a thousand doors

of slammed opportunities opened.


It is my choice.

I have climbed to this point

fighting to the breach that waits

and having been shown he way

I must walk through

though no one is waiting to catch my fall

but myself, which will then smash

wet and raw on the cold rocks below.


My façade is waning

my heart is breaking beats

that back me away from the pane

and press my back to the wall

with frightened crocs

tumbling from my eyes,

my knees break and slide

folding my arms down

into a petrified fetal embrace.


I hear the rattle in the walls

pound the liquid cavity of my chest.

I strike keys to the beat

see myself sitting in a monotonous stifle

as young Pink oblivious to all around

and lost in a world of my design.


I hurt all over from muscle aches

and heart strains in the aftermath

of unplanned romance

that I have successfully split.


My last child

climbs into a basement cabinet

to play hide and go seek with a life

that must be found

but never will be

after the loud metal click.


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