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  Approaching the door

  hesitantly, warily.

  I reach for the bell

  and push.

  My arrival announced,

  serves to feed my fear,

  of denial and rejection.

  I left here silently,

  when you were not looking.

  Slipping away,

  ghostly.

  It was not until I err'd

  that you knew I had left.

  and that error was enough

  for most to close the door

  forever.

  At the door now,

  waiting for your reply.

  The threshold of your heart

  has never looked so frightening.

  Am I more afraid

  of being turned away,

  or of being accepted

  and living with my guilt?

  Do I fear your love

  and your forgiveness?

  Or my own inability to

  let bygones be bygones?

  Regardless of my fear,

  here I am,

  at the door to your heart,

  at the door to my home.


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