echoes
I stand before your door with trembling fist,
the wood worn smooth by lovers braver, whole.
Yet still, I knock-- a hesitant insist,
a hollow echo seeking its own toll.
Your heart is open wide beneath my hand,
its pulse a plea, unguarded in reply.
But fear has carved a fortress where I stand,
each stone a promise not to break or try.
You offer me the rawness of your name--
a melody too bright, too fierce to hold--
while I, encased in shadow, drown the flame,
still haunted by a love that once grew cold.
I knock, though every tap is laced with dread,
each cadence stifling what wants to rise.
My echoes bruise your chest, your breath unsaid--
I see the aching written in your eyes.
Yet chains are safe; they bind, but they protect--
or so I tell myself to mask the cost.
For every door I’ve left closed and unchecked
was never truly guarding what I’d lost.
Your heart remains, patient and bruised with weight,
while I, a coward trembling in disguise,
stand knocking, loving-- but too scared of fate,
to open wide and let our echoes rise.
Copyright © Emma Atkins | Year Posted 2025
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