Door

Devious half-smile, raised eyebrow drawn low:

you look like a lot of people I know.

Either suffocating-cracked or lush-malignant never mowed,

the field doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to grow.

Stuck between sand and sea, not staying not going;

the wheel of time won’t spin anymore.

Narcissist masks shatter over throwing—

I’ll meet you just outside the door.