Between Frame and Door

The door won't close all the way,

a sliver of light cutting cold

against the dark hallway.

Air slips in, thin and sharp,

whispering secrets between wood and paint,

creaking as I push it close again.

I hear the quiet protest,

a stubborn space that won't be tamed,

like a wound that breathes,

never quite healing.

The gap sighs under my hand,

an unfinished promise

between the frame and door.