leave your clothes on the 
floor for now. there are still 
a few bittersweet seconds
we've yet to wrap ourselves
around, some we've yet to 
harshly ignore, and then, 
with that last look of contempt, 
look away.

i will wait until i hear you leave
and i will lock the door behind
you. this is closure. and this is
closing the door behind you,
waiting until i hear you leave.

just as i've waited before.

this is the first measure, the 
first atonement, the first or 
even second fall from grace. 
oh, we are not (and won’t be)
that far from any trees, be they 
of good or of evil, or for
shelter from the harsh winter
that we've let on.

i will wait until i hear you leave.

i will lock the door and i won't
have to wait
 any longer.