There's a knock on the door, but I won't let you in because if I do, I wouldn't be able to let you out because I love you but you know that already.
I've been steadily fighting this feeling that rises up in my throat every time I see you because this a war, and you're not ready and mother thinks that she's not ready either
To accept .
You. Us.
And suddenly the rush of words from your lips endless stream of mumbled apologies regrets and they say you shouldn't regret anything because it was something you loved once.
I've loved you twice.
So maybe that's why at the end of the day we're two strangers on different sides of the heavy door. Hardwood muting the unison of our beating hearts shielding us all because its magic this thing we have.
And we're still not ready.
To accept
You. Us.