Credit: We Heart It

carried in on the
gray light of morning
a hint of possibility
through a cleft in sheers.
Thin black line,
between door and frame,
question lies behind
as it begs to be opened-
but I stay here,
covered in the place where
he warmed my side
before the crest of dawn
stole him away to
paying clocks and
responsibilities.
And outside,
holds nothing for me
while inside
holds me in waiting
pressing words
beneath the fan
while the curtains
sway and flutter in its
soft, cool breath
and rain whips
like a windblown sheet
against the window.
And I sift through keys
until I find one
to widen the door
a light switch
a craving
to satisfy
an ending
I can walk away from.
And this
is not it.