(Untitled)

The audible knock of the door behind me,

Slid through the gaps of the cut air,

That was sliced by my conscience.

I halted my reading just for a moment,

Closed it and a 'thud' fused in the cacophony.

I pushed the seat away is my comfort,

To scrutinize my own wonders of,

"Who might that be?"

Every step is as paced with the thumping,

And my own heartbeat joined in the pulse,

Tempo increasing like a recital reaching it's climax.

I'm so close to the door now,

All I need is to reach for that knob,

As I pulled it open,

The cold air gushed upon my face,

Impaired my sight just for a twinkle.

I blinked quickly hoping to gain it back.

As my vision glued together,

A figure appeared,

That expression, that distant image I've almost forgotten.

I simpered.

"Oh, it's you",

I held back saying so many,

That my warm delight was eager to express.

But with arms outstretched,

I took a step closer,

And hugged the emptiness..