Blue Doors
You stop my heart
on the same lenght that I
disturb your silence
Me knocking on your strings
You stepping on my knobs
Our wooden breaths
measuring what
how
why
you make me
feel
as if every color of the rainbow is in fact
every note on the musical scale
In the emergence of patterns
the ultimate self-answering question
The dark unknown that scares me but
pulls me
Being in your presence
I no longer add
to progressions of numbers
Yet I graciously put zeros to the right
Kaboom!
Like a painter
I suddenly multiply
You are suddenly the poem
Opening and closing
in unfinished entrances
departures
I feel lost and found
goosed and bumped
in need of a hug.
There is an anchor inked to my wrist
ready to drop itself
into the shores of your pupils
without hurting you
without making you blind
And I wonder
if all sailors are curious
if all naturalists are bastards
Because I share this urgency with them
to venture back into mother's womb
to call it life's purpose
the journey's reward
The profanation of time
of mind
of matter
of flesh
And I know what you sense but
avoid
in the same way I'm warm inside when
its cold outside
Doors that separate one room from the others
Before I leave singing
truths
me who falls in love
with someone new
each day
How to keep a stranger
I ponder
The risks of hipothetical rejection and
charged pride
all crusted hard and dry
around me
like a tea bud
If you pour warm water over me
I release
I soothe
in humming decay
of scent and flavor
Dissolving in softening
process
transcending by
inclusion
Taking leaps on my own Planck's mesh
I sense a paralyzing force
in this house
I bet is you.
I play and replay a fabricated memory
where the hallway becomes our half way
and we kneel in the middle of this third floor
allowing gravity to make a point
the dropping of the anchor
the crossing of the vertical portal
The only thing left is the unuttered song of your silence
mixed with the hard pace of my blood
Letting courage out
inviting tenderness in
The image  of what is behind or beyond
inside or outside
dimensions
is a futile
subtle
lie
Blue doors that
crack open and shut
If I dont rise to meet them
I might die.
