Bedroom door.

It's vacant.
Your heart, this house--
you couldn't make it.
I can feel you breathing:
on my shoulder.
You're suffocating.
With stifled breaths
you can't help but close your eyes
as you undress,
stripping away each sin,
each memory, each place,
but never letting me in.
It's cold on this floor,
even more icy is your
bedroom door.
It's vacant--
your heart, this room.
You couldn't take it.