upon the request that i see You again

the door, the one at the end of the hallway
do you see the dust that lines it?
that is because it has been closed for so long.
what is hidden behind it? you ask
but my answer will always be the same
‘that is where i keep the memories
the good times, the love, the anger, the remorse’
‘is the sadness back there, too?’
‘yes it is, but there seems to be a crack
for once every now and again i cry.
please, do not open it.’
but you do, you open it anyway
and i remember
your lips, your skin, your breath
nothing ugly, nothing brutal
nothing that you left me with
scars turn to wounds
agape, much like the door
‘come and see me’
your voice but a mere whisper
not spoken aloud, but inside my head
to see you would be to
hear your voice
hear you laugh
see your smile
look into your eyes
the things by which i once measured my life
to see you would be to
bruise my soul
bloody my spirit
eat my heart
abolish my security
i fight my battles
but the wind from behind the door
never once quieted
it robs me of my armor
it steals away my masks