Before the Closet Door


Ironic, the emotions are no different on the other side.

Having subsisted in the great pretense of…someone else.

Then…and, now…

when the floods rushed upon me.

It had always been torment that I felt.

Today,

as before,

the closet door,

love was a feast in which I dined.

Hate a rapturous offender.

Dissidence for a bi-lateral kind.

Mockingly,

I bleed now.

As I did,

before the open closet door.

I cry,

as before the open closet door.

Please to meet you…

I am no different from before.

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