The Door

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #24

I approach the door which separates me from my memory of you. My fingers trace the worn spots- where I have held on tight, the rough edges- where I have tried to pry my hands free, the deep grooves- in which I have lost so much of myself.

I spend forever peering thru the vast emptiness of the keyhole- the portal to which I know you have the only key. Afraid to let go, and even more afraid, that if I ever do open the door- you won’t be there.

If I did allow myself to move on, how many hearts would I singe- how many lives would I unravel- knowing all the while, you have always been right?

I hear a voice, from
deep within my illusion-
a familiar voice,
emanating from my heart,
“you will never love anyone
like you love me”
and I know, he has won…

Posted for Crimsons’s Creative Challenge Photo Prompt #24 and Girlie on the Edge’s Six Sentence Story, Cue word: Memory.

56 thoughts on “The Door

  1. The heart you’ve managed to singe is mine. Reminded me right of the time when I was told I wouldn’t love anyone as much as I loved you. It’s actually funny how the world’s spun so much since that everybody has forgotten what love even means.

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  2. Dude!*

    * traditional Y Chromian expression of admiration for a work requiring putting one’s self way the hell out there and, simultaneously, expressing it in such a way that the reader can be touched both by the words and the emotional resonation it elicits. often accompanied by fist bump

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  3. Rarely do the “big questions” just involve oneself as is indicated in your line “If I did allow myself to move on, how many hearts would I singe- how many lives would I unravel.”
    A SSS of beautiful prose.

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    • I think entering into a relationship knowing it can never measure up to a previous love is quite one sided.. and unfair. maybe something was lost in translation. Thank you for stopping in to comment, Pat.

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  4. doors open one way and some relationships are one sided, the one having the key has the final say, so unfair. i love the metaphor of the grooves the best, places we are almost hidden but so there. really love this one Violet, there’s trauma and there’s healing

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