Knock Twice

     
You’re looking at me
from behind smoke and mirrors,
across a crowded bar that rarely delivers,
and I have never seen
more beauty
than this
in my clouded wake.

I have never regretted
a right decision made
in virtuous foolishness,
then preached without truth,
than the one I made
on a bar stool
with you inches from me,
like an unread book…

…and there are moments, I think,
you shouldn’t look at me
like that,
but the second it is gone, God knows,
I want it back, and front, and upside down,
and inwards and backwards, and I beg you,
lay me down on that guilty pyre,
for we’ve known it
ever so long,
we’re just dragging it out like the
chorus of a song and a dance, with too much
repetition, not enough
variation,
and I lied,
I want you,
every way in creation of man
and of woman from him…

…so ask me again, with that same, damned longing,
and knock twice…my stolen sin,
for this time,
I will surely let you in.