Things That I Close

Things that I close Windows to not let any flies and mosquitos in Doors to not let any air or heat out of the house as my mother would say, Jars full of fireflies, if only for a moment bottles of ketchup, cupboards, faucets dresser drawers full of old clothes that still smell like you. You. I waited 374 days to hear your voice again to see if my heart still palpitates when you whisper my name. I starved for closure, like in the middle of a drought, I longed for a conclusion as if it was water. Mind, nose, Eyes when I'm tired, Mouth-everyone's parent has yelled at them to keep their mouth closed before Legs (can go either way) Books, chapters (life) that you just have to walk away from. Everything that I can close, I can open and I can reopen and re-shut. 374 days in and the emotions that I bottled up exploded freely and fiercely. Hearts are often left ajar.