Post-it

There’s a note on my bedroom door
Tacked up with some old blue tack
Filled with reasons to keep on opening
That door and not turning back
Sometimes it’s easier to nestle into silence
And the darkness with the curtains closed
And melt into the comfy covers and act
Like nobody knows you’re in there
But that’s the consequence of love
There’s always a shadow protruding under
That sliver of light under that door
Someone waiting with another post-it
Of reasons why life shouldn’t be ignored
And sometimes you wish you could fall
Out of love so that no one would come
And you could be left in the fort you fashioned
Yourself with dreams filling your heavy head
And sleep calls in soft tones and what does it
Matter if you sleep through the hurt because
Every day is a painful experience and sometimes
You just get sick of the resistance and it seems
Futile, like you’ve run a mile in someone else’s
Shoes and It hurts like hell and tomorrows just
A whole other obstacle course but as long as there’s
That little note you land on your feet you turn that
Brass golden knob and walk and crawl and run and
Fight and struggle and fall and scream and life
Isn’t something that you can simply rewind,
Though you wish it was, like there was some kind of
Pause but the only pause there is, is in the punctuation
Of that stupid little post it note

Today is waiting, get up and go.

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