The Back Room

Just a little bit longer.

Darling, hold me tighter.
I can’t do this anymore.
I know not of the man I am
opposite that door.

I want to feel your fingers
as they circle in my palm;
Inside here things are logical,
understandable, and calm.

I do not want to face the world
it is dark and void of purpose;
a contempt-abiding waste of time
from its core and to its surface.

Fifteen minutes more, I ask,
I do not want to leave.
I care not what amount it costs,
for it would cost me more to grieve.

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