Orbit.

You drift back to me, now and again.
How long have I stood here?
How long have I wandered in your closet,
Dim lake sunset washing through your bedroom window
Over earthy knits and gilt wovens.
Our nights spent piled in velvet and feathers,
Summers spelled out in soft-shoe, sole-stolen.
Left plum on the ceiling and love on the door.
We tried to be deep, soulful and earnest.
Walking that filmy line between girls and women.
Both and neither all at once.
Everything was all at once, there was no time to lay it out, to be sure of anything.
So we stumbled through the glass and left our younger selves behind, bleeding and clinging in the wreckage.
They comfort eachother still.

Now that the days march in a regiment, now that our heads spin a little slower, I wonder if you are lonely.
Or jealous.
If you know I know you lied.
Most of us want to be more than we are, but you let it get in the way.
I wonder if you ever got it fixed.
I didn't, just learned to make it work for me.
I wonder how long I have been standing here.
Here, among the weeds outside your door.
I don't knock, I never do.
I think my soul knows that when the time is right, when we've come full-circle again, it won't be so hard or far to reach to simply
Open your door.