if you ever want to leave, just let me know
i’ll open the door for you and make sure you safely get out
i’ll unplug the red lights;
i’ll make sure to cut the flowers you never gave to itty bitty pieces and
use them as confetti to celebrate your loss.
if you ever want to leave, just give me a nudge
i’ll turn that nudge to a push and push myself out of your way
i’ll blow out the candles;
i’ll shred the bedsheets we shared
use them to fill a pillow just so you don’t miss my arm to sleep on.
if you ever want to leave, just tell me
i won’t speak another word; not a hum
i’ll give you all the silence you need
i’ll carefully unpot the flowers i planted around this room
if you ever want to leave, could you give me a two weeks’ notice?
that way, i’ll know not to look at happy couples and relate to them
not to think of you when i see someone holding hands
i’ll avoid going to starbucks because it reminds me of you sipping coffee
i’ll ignore the traffic lights because i’ll start looking for red flags in you, instead.
i’m not scared that you’ll leave.
i’m afraid you’ll leave and i’ll stop loving the flowers i never had.
i’m afraid i won’t see the greener grass but
smoke them instead.
i’m afraid i’ll not listen to songs i love
because they remind me of your soft voice
i’m afraid i’ll push my family away
out of spite of you pushing me away.
i’m afraid i’ll find myself staring at my phone
expecting your text, or a call
i’d hate to think you’d pop up as a number instead of a name this time
not that you ever call, but i’d hate to hope you would.
so, if you ever want to leave, just let me know.
i’ll open the door-
i’ll get you a forget-me-not note while i try to erase your existence
i’ll wave at you but won’t do our signature handshake
how would i attempt an handshake when my heart aches
and longs to plug the red lights back on.
please remember to give me my door keys back.
you’ve made sure noone other than you will ever come to this room
but, but just in case
someone decides to like the torn up flowers
the smell of blown out candles, and the messed up sheets,
i’d like to be here.
thinking about the door you went through.
