In my head, there are doors
each full of memories
of friends, family, him, you.
Doors I can enter as I please.
At the end of the day
or just when the dawn breaks
I can relive my memories
of parties, school days, work, sex, love.
Like re-watching movies,
going straight to the good parts
or the sad ones for a good cry,
just to remember the feeling.
But, in isolation,
I discovered new doors;
doors full of pure wishful thinking,
expectations of the future.
I still see family
I also see my friends;
a tall bottle of Scotch whiskey
festive, in each other’s company.
I see you, also, us;
walking around the streets,
hands intertwined, moving forward,
drowning in laughter, no fucks given.
I wish these doors can take me:
to the skies I want to see,
to the wines I want to taste,
to the skin I want to feel.
A little laughter, a little death
Not just mere hope;
but a definitive reality.
Outside my mind,
something I want more;
a life beyond these doors.
