I made a window
with clear glass
so you may see in.
There are doors,
some closed, I know.
Locked? A few. If I turn my back
I want to know that there are some places
that can't be breached
if I have trusted unwell.
I turn your name
and yours (yours and yours)
over and again
until it is the same as mine
in my heart.
My fear trembles
against my lips,
mouth softly opening
hoping for a surer sound.
If I hesitate it's because
I forgot my footing
and not for lack of love
I have for you.
You see,
I can only see through my eyes
and sometimes they are cloudy
and unlike the clear glass
of the windows I had set in
so you never feel blindsided
by the thoughts that live
in my emotions.
I breathe and in that second
I die and struggle with the death.
You may feel left out,
pushed deliberately and not delicately,
to shut down is something
that saves my life
and yours (ultimately ours).
some times that little room
with the closed door
is the sanctuary that rewards me
with a truer path to you,
I know it sounds strange,
but it is my reason and not an excuse
you are far too used to hearing.
A measure of a home is not how many windows
there are
but how the windows are used
and whether the flow goes both ways,
it does not help when one can see in
and the other never sees out.
I am trying, I am far too used
to my aloneness and singular obsession,
But never doubt that there is a heart beating
behind this clear glass, behind the closed doors.
It may not be the same colour as another
but it is mine and I can give it
but not to be dissected until
the blood runs cold,
I do not like the ice
it keeps me immobile
and afraid to break out.
Let's make a truce, a decision,
Let's try
to do our best, always.

Let's try,
that is worth more than promising
forever.