I prop the door open heat spills like light

I prop the door open, heat spills like light,

     a dull doorstop wedged tight in the frame,

     secrets and whispers all hovering in sight,

     the weight of the day adds its own kind of blame.

I think of the things that go unsaid, unshared,

     the thud of my heart behind walls, contained,

     like summer sweat pooled, it’s all left bare,

     each draft through the hall, a reminder, unnamed.

The door hinges creak, a slow, silent sigh,

     inviting the outside into my little space,

     just a wedge of plastic, but still, I comply,

     leaning on hope in this familiar place.