My worst enemy

I sat,

My head

caressing her door.

My hair, the roots to

My withered flower,

tried to force its way

through the soil door

and ravish what’s inside.

when the smoke emerged

from the cracks of the door,

I begged to become it;

to fill her mouth and lungs,

to dance across her lips,

to linger in her presence,

to graze her face,

and envelop her body.

I snuggled up to

My new worst ene

My.

My eyes grew heavy, and

My dreams grew vivid;

I dreamt that night

of a steel door painted with

My face.