you better not fucking knock at my door again.
your tap-tap-tappings are driving the walls
to shout obscenities, to lash out with insane cries
for power and control, and one more night
with the walls fiercer than i am will force me into lunacy.
maybe if i drive you away with scrawled drawings
of boiling seas and disturbed, chaotic metaphors
you will leave. you will turn away, your hand
still in a fist, ready to tap-tap-tap maybe even
to bang and scream and protest the locked door
maybe even to throw an invader rock
through my painted glass windows to let the air in
to see if the chilled current will draw out
the good that hides deep within. don't knock at my door
tonight. the one you are looking for no longer
resides in these four walls. the one you are looking
for is dead and gone, and where she dwells
you cannot knock. you cannot ring. you cannot revive.