Where Is The Open Door?
Where is the open door
I used to know so well
who’s latch was never closed to me
who’s path was always known?
Where are the satin sheets
that tasted of our sweat
on those nights of reckless passion
when our bodies heaved and flowed with love?
Where are the eyes of fire
that begged me to come in
and gazed into my soul
the moment we became as one?
The door is locked.
The sheets are put away.
Your eyes no longer see me now.
Love is such a strange agreement.
Where is the open door
I used to know so well
who’s latch was never closed to me
who’s path was always known?
Where are the satin sheets
that tasted of our sweat
on those nights of reckless passion
when our bodies heaved and flowed with love?
Where are the eyes of fire
that begged me to come in
and gazed into my soul
the moment we became as one?
The door is locked.
The sheets are put away.
Your eyes no longer see me now.
Love is such a strange agreement.
© p. donovan
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