letters (prose of my life)

prose of my life.
I
the other day, on my way out of the book store,
a man in his serious age held the door open for me
while I was walking through the double door and a hallway.
the moment was somehow awkward to be casual.
we made an eye contact and I thanked him.
he told me back that I had made his day
just being there… and he would have stayed
a whole day by that door just to keep it open for me.
it was a nice one
and I had granted him one of my most enchanting smiles.
II
and I had remembered them all:
some of them wanted to buy,
others pleaded, cried, begged and tried
to warm my heart with the promise of suicide,
the smart ones run away instantly,
the choice that marches before my name.
a few attempted to bully their way trough,
but as soon as I hissed, all disappeared,
there was no brave one to stay.
and when I had thrown a bolt of lightning or a few,
no one attempted to cross the bare lands for years…
III
… I am standing alone.
my eyes drown into the sunset.
…live entangled hopelessly in time
like a dying fly in a spider web.
I have missed You,
one who knows
where is the line
that separates right and wrong,
fear and bravery, love and hate,
one who can stand in the middle of opposites
with a smile
and hold the door open,
for me to be born into this world,
one who can open his arms
and embrace
all that I am…