The Door Unlocked

Through storms and shifting tides,

my loyalty has remained

steadfast as the first month,

unbroken by the tenth,

a constant in the theater of uncertainty.

Even in sleep,

where the mind conspires in whispers and illusions,

I am bound.

No lips but yours.

No gaze but those bright, brown eyes -

the very eyes that undo me,

every time.

You’ve shut the door, yes,

but you’ve not turned the key.

And for that, I wait.

I wait with patience,

with reverence,

and with the quiet dignity of a man

who understands that timing is a cruel,

yet necessary, conspirator.

Do not carry guilt.

The world has toppled its weight upon you,

and I pray, with all the fervor I possess,

that you rise from beneath it

before the earth decides to press harder still.

Until then, I remain.

Waiting.

And when you return,

I shall greet you with the trembling joy of a boy

on his first date,

marveling at the impossible fortune

of sitting across from you once again.