"Something that is Really Hard for Me" by Angela Barton
It is hard for me to stand in the doorway of my past
And to close the door.
To push it slightly, with both hands
The white paint through the absence of my fingers
To feel the woods resistance
The creak of the hinges.
To glance decisively at what stays behind
To look at it without the flush of heat invading my face,
The empty of my yearning for a light there.
To grab the handle
To turn the knob
And to finally, find the key.