Hey Lea, I’m Sorry

The ceiling fan spins

aromas of white wine and fresh flowers

around a quiet abode, one small room

fingers tapping the edge of linen tablecloth

the boy, waiting for his one

and the door doesn’t knock

the grass freshly cut from the morning

and bushes neatly trimmed

might still cling to sweat from the work

to make this day last long past the night

shoving the introvert deep, without a fight

he asks to have one night to himself

and the mind doesn’t knock

it knows how big this could be

he smiles in the mirror, potentially

life changing

breath taking

not the lemon scented dish soap

although that was quite a hit last year

tonight, though, conquers a different fear

it’s easy to love when she’s far

but when she’s near, the pace is escalated

the weight is pressurized and shrunk

into the size of two lips

the time ticks

and the door is silent as the cold

drifting over him

the tease, the torture

changes into something rare

hands running frantic through hair

did I fail in appealing

or in appealing

did I show you something about me

that was broken, leaking

I’m sorry you didn’t open the door

I did

and the most prepared of us

was the least qualified

6 thoughts on “Hey Lea, I’m Sorry

I'm interested in hearing what you have to say

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s