Unintentionally, I unleash an army of trampling soldiers
That storm my mind as they continuously march out
Of the Pandora’s Box that has been cracked wide open.
Silence ricochets off the worn out walls of my bones,
Yet a jeering echo sneers at me,
Bouncing off the fragile pieces of my heart that
I had just finished taping together.

Like a spiteful storyteller delighting in
The holes that are still trying to fill themselves,
The voice paints nightmares before my eyes,
Dabbling on each detail to horrify me,
Lingering ever so slowly to draw out a dull ache
That grows sharper by the second.

Fighting to repulse the encroaching terrors,
I stagger forward as every uncertainty hangs on to my legs
To drag me back and slow me down,
But I bite my tongue and go on,
Ironically pulled forward by the thought
That I’ll be crushed either way.

Curiosity runs amuck as I trek through the heavy atmosphere,
Walking in an endless loop past your abandoned house.
Wooden boards nailed across your bolted windows
And a door that hasn’t been opened since you were born—
I couldn’t remember a time the house was ever vulnerable.
But finally I sit down on the rickety porch
As tiny flecks of snow float down with a light of their own,
Dotting across your rooftop as if they were
Trying to knock and greet you too.
Puffs of condensed wonder and hope escape into the air,
Waiting for a few seconds to be caught or seen,
And then vanishing without a single word said.

Out of the corner of my eye a fabric rustles—
Too slowly, I turn my head and wait—
Did the curtain move? Are you in there after all?

The white fluff begins to pile higher and higher
And I wonder if you ever brush aside the dusty drapes
And are astonished that I’m still waiting here,
Waiting for you to come and unlock the door
And accompany me instead of these
Elusive clouds of optimism.

As the temperature drops along with my faith,
I still remain on this broken porch,
Waiting, waiting, waiting
For you until the door creaks open.