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.”  


  1. Brink

    Good job!

  2. Gabrielle Pollack

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

  3. Annabel Hay

    Beautiful poem, well done!

  4. Jane Jackson

    Love reading your work Sarah

  5. eden anderson

    This is so pretty!! ❤️❤️❤️


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