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The Door

November 14, 2019

With the remnants of my meager strength I slowly stand,

Turning the door handle, one thought guiding my shaking hand:

The least I can do is know it all.

 

My past reaches for me, clawing at my present;

Resolutions and promises shatter beneath me as I relent,

Scratches peeling the stars from my skin.

 

I relish my darkness, hysteria rising as all eyes see light;

There is no need to hide my scars in this endless night,

And none know the name I betray.

 

I blink to see a hand, flecked with scars of its own,

Reaching for me, as if I could still be known.

Blinded, I take it.

 

I breathe as one who has not yet known air,

The mark of a star, the imprint of a kiss on my hair,

And, faintly, “Let’s try again.”  

8 Comments

  1. Brink

    Good job!

    Reply
  2. Gabrielle Pollack

    This is so beautiful, Sarah! I love the imagery. Thank you for sharing.

    Reply
  3. Annabel Hay

    Beautiful poem, well done!

    Reply
  4. Jane Jackson

    Love reading your work Sarah

    Reply
  5. Eden Anderson

    This is so pretty!! ❤️❤️❤️

    Reply

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