The door to my heart
Is a guarded start
A rusted part
A trembling art
That shadows chart
In rooms apart
The door to my heart
Is a narrow frame
A whispered claim
A lock that keeps
Each ghost the same
A quiet flame
Without a name
The door to my heart
Is a waiting key
A symmetry
A bruise that learned
To mimic me
A sealed decree
Of secrecy
The door to my heart
Is a tilted light
A borrowed night
A threshold caught
Between invite
And coiled fright
That grips too tight
The door to my heart
Is a pulse
A part
A midnight chart
Of scars in art
And if you knock
You’ll feel it start
The soft
Unsure
Unsteady
Spark
Of letting someone
Through the dark
Into
The
Heart