shut

as sneaking as
the rainstorm overhead
and
evermore penetrating
my soul
is the sound of a
closing door
on the bottom floor
click.
shut. done.
so brutally absolute
the audible utterance
of a truth
(i can't see through)
and i wasn't even
thinking about her
this is how
coping goes
moving me with a sound
showing me where it all ended
(or begins)
the sole witness
surviving the ever after
with vultures on
my back
forcing myself
to believe
there's a
black haired angel
smiling on me

what is loving worth
the joy of interaction
or the salvation in solitude?
not being able to handle
or not being able to choose?
can a spirit influence action
well after its gone?
can tomorrow
right all the wrongs?
the courage to accept the unknown
tis the insight to growing?