Three knocks, appears confusion.

Knock, knock, knock.

Love's arrived and his fists leave knuckle prints apon the door in front of me.
Knock, knock, knock.

Love's knocking earthquakes at my feet
lifting me a bit higher off the stable ground
Love has arrived and I can't help being shaken into a panic attack
It's here to ressurect my mindset
from the heartache carving scars into my chest
during the summer time.
Love's here to remind me that I have a bit of a tight rope against the mental grasp
I have tied to the past.

Love's here, mom, did you hear?
He wants to take me away 
he wants to hold me
until my breaths become sweet melodies
until my skin is shaking within the closed in tight space of pleasure.
You see, the thing is you
planted seals in my bones that hold codes
difficult to crack.
You know it's been so long I even forgot the 
passcodes, they've grown old
thought of only in the vague corners of my memory.
Now i'm stuck staring at the keyhole with no intentions to seek
the compatible key opening opportunities.

The door knocks once before my eyes,
twice, he knocks and it multiplies.
My head spirals out of confusion and back in.
My heart is a dark cave that recedes deeper into the cage of my chest.

There's a fluttering in my stomach, Mom
where's this coming from?
There's this feeling releasing in my limbs when he 
puts his palms against my skin and
there's a sense that he sugar coats these sins
I cant shake off.
The ice frozen above my flesh melts away
when he looks at me the way
he does,
and I'm afraid to hold the gaze.

Tell me, Mom
before these men planted your heart in a freezer, 
has love kept you warm at night?
Has love made you want to reconsider the years you've held your
heart up in your hands for sale,
with the doubts in the back of your mind that nobody really wanted it.
Has love pinned you up against his bedsheets and asked you to stay
just for the feelings that keep you from falling asleep?
Just for the company of a love making silent promises.

Revealing secrets that I love you isn't code for I'll destroy you,
that I love you isn't silent I hate yous,
that I love you may be just three words 
and sometimes men will use it up until the meaning 
tastes past bitter and never sweet,
but that I love you can mean an accumulation of feelings 
rising out of our blood streams,
and it may be love knocking,
or it may be lust in disguise but 

Mom, you should have taught me the sounds of the knocks 
you've recognized.

I have taught myself that you can't always open the door to 
strangers with the blood stains of other hearts between their fingernails
and that their conviction leaves them guilty
with no overlooking what their hands could have done.
I have taught myself that a man with a bleeding heart has either
lost the battle,
or won.

Tell me, Mom
why I taught myself to take precautions, and you've taught me to keep the door shut.
Instead of planting this pit of fear beside your ankles kept in place
instead of cutting off these vines of anchors sinking you down 
you couldn't lift your hurting face,
to tell me that even though love arrives with pain,
he will not always hurt.


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