he blood gushed forward in a scarlet display

a memory of how things were back then

Could you recall it now? What ever were you fighting for? Is such a thing as that beyond you?

"Make sure you close the door on your way out," she told you.

Yet you never returned.

an intensity filled with raw tones crawled under your skin

that bad feeling could not be ignored any longer, so you drew from the hip and pushed forward

"My mistake," you muttered, "my mistake," as you sat on the hill shaking your head.

"World changed around us and we were too foolish to even see it. Could it have been our faults all along?"

"Shut the goddamn door!"

different now, and yet the same, swore I saw you with those scars last week

hung up your weary face by the door, and watched the weather change into a never-ending nightmare

shoving past all the people desperate to stop what had happened before, with the loss of a man we got the answers you'd been searching for

days into weeks and months flew by, peacefully into the last goodbye, it was a crescendo unto trouble lost to a man in the night

He stood by the streetlight, illuminating the crossroads before you. A familiar man that all would become acquainted with in due time.

"Won't you please close the door?"

Carrying the weight of a future unknown, you buried your face into your hands and cried out for her again, just hands that you wished could entwine with yours just once more.

"A wish, a desire perhaps?"

Yet you refused to close it, and turned a blind eye to the beggar in the streets.

Two of which we all have, though perhaps only you had one with which to see, after that terrible accident.

It happened twice you know, but your brother came to a fork in the road, so you only recall it once.

Back in the saddle of a quieter time, you returned home to her, but you could feel that under your chest, something had changed. It wasn't just her or you, not the whole house, but everything around was a bit off, as if shifted to the left.

pounding nightmares assaulted you as you rested, and they seemed to become worse as time passed

cold sweats and memories of blood, the barn door being swung clean open

placed his cap on your head and told you to run like hell was on your heels

a sacrifice for nothing had been twisted into something more than it had been before

It was a curse for the three of you to bear, constantly being haunted by bad memories that never happened, blood oozing from wounds that were created in different places

still scarred but different, in the wrong place.

"Who knew that could be such a thing? Well, you did, of course. But not me. I don't know much of anything."

And with that, the door shut.

(June 2021)