Knock

If I was to knock on your door
late at night
would you let me in?

Beckoned by the light beneath your door
Softly strewn into the dark, like a marshlight,
It is shamelessly tempting me
into
Knocking

If I was to knock on your door
would you be surprised
to find me standing here?

Quietly barefoot and waiting.
The ghostly hands of dreams and demons,
driving me half mad, pushing me forward
into
Knocking

If I was to knock on your door
Would you realise then
or do you know already?

Shoddy attempts to shroud my eyes,
which shine like beacons, broadcasting
this insane desire is blinding me
into
Knocking

The light that escapes you unmissed
pools on toes pale and distant, larval,
wriggling on your threshold
All my being cold and centred in my right hand
which is clenched and determined
into -

(and I'm away, in the dark
and the cold
and I swear
tomorrow I'll do it
tomorrow I'll do it
sit through the sunlight
and slink back.
But for now I am flying
on tonight's reprieve
from)

- Knocking