door knocker

you do yourself well
to treat me like a stranger,
since I'm surely no angel;
you could just send me to Hell:
that would serve me right,
for all I withheld, night after night;
conversations for a court,
sad songs to strike a spark,
and when you knocked,
I left you standing in the dark;
not the first to disappoint,
probably not the last, but still
I keep that candle in that window,
hoping for some renewed will,
something that still can glow,
something to let you know,
that next time, next time,
next time, I will answer.

February 13, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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