​A Screen Door’s View

The screen door swinging on a rusted hinge, Now the garden’s gone to the weeds. I’m standing where the shadows cringe, With a kind of love that weeps. Now you’re curated in a frame of pine, Beind a glass that’s spider webbed and thin. Tying to find that girl who was once mine Underneth that translucent pale papery skin.

I wrote a song I want to play for you, But now the notes feel out of tune. Watching the sky turn a bruised up blue, Beneath this hollow silver moon. I seen those spoons, but I viewed your light, That glow that burnt out behind those eyes. I know I’m losing this war against the night Whispering a thousand slow and soft goodbyes.

I’m singing to a window that won’t open, Looking at cracks I can never mend. Every word is another promise broken, Just a lover playing in love, pretend. You drifted down into that darkness now, Where that water is deep and froze. And I’m just a man who made a vow, To finish this story I never choose.

I’ll leave the flowers on the sill, And I’ll hum the melody real low. Singing to the ghost of you like you’re real, Finding so hard to just let go.