Always Behind Closed Doors

[Richard]

Always Behind Closed Doors

I will never be curtains open
on a spring day,
dust particles lazily riding
streaks of sunlght to a rest;
glass warm against lonely palm.

My windows are boarded up, nails
catch those nosey enough
to find make-believe monsters
in cracked foundations,
rotted front steps,
rusted door locks-
spare keys buried in a soil
the same shade as your eyes.

Our goodbyes just words,
the kiss lost next to nervous hands
who play with lint inside pockets.
Our eye contact limited
by good manners to ten seconds,
and as I count, I envision
you will build a mansion from fresh lumber,
curtains drawn everyday,
but closed each night.