a window.

In the quiet of the night.
My favourite time of the 24 hours.

The rain creates a tangible fog,
a visible barrier..

"knocked on your door but you don't live there anymore.."

But you do.
I curled my fingers around the brass knockers..
Your shoes, not those that I bought you, but new ones
that I have seen you in.
They sit innocently, spotted by tiny drops of rain.

If I listened hard,
if I pressed my ear to the door,
would I hear your laughter?
would I hear hers...?

the same walls that contained our laughter,
our tears and fights,
our kisses and brawls..

I wished you had moved.

I peek through the peephole,
and there you are, inverted to my eyes.
You're tiny, but that tiny being resonnates a vibe
that hits right at my heart.

I try to catch my breath.

The tiny you.. Is bleeding.
You're pathetic,
on the floor, and crying.
You've fallen.

I ache inside,
longing to bring you to the safe place
that I have had reserved for you in my heart.

Truth be, I want to cushion your falls,
wipe away your tears,
and kiss your wounds.

But I know, beyond the peephole,
there are more of you.
Bigger, better yous.
Smiling yous.
Laughing yous.
Happy.. yous.

If I did press my ear,
hold my breadth and take the pain,
I can hear the love.

I look the the peephole you.
And I see.. a tiny, just as broken her.
She sits next to you..
She didn't cushion your fall,
but she fell with you.
She cries with you.
She bleeds with you.

If you looked into my peephole...

friends and family, please don't take this too literally. i just felt like writing.