Being the age you were when we met,
brings me to the door of reflection.
A door that’s been locked for some time now.
to a dark room with cobwebs covering
your security and masculinity.
Tinted windows and empty walls.
I remember the shiny items you used
to lure me in here.
Now I understand why you pursued me,
reaching for any light to steal.
I miss that light,
I miss faithfully believing in faithfulness.
I miss believing I’d be good enough for someone.
Must I beg the question again,
why wasn’t I enough?
Should I lock the door again?
This room haunts me,
you still haunt me.
I wish I could burn it all down,
but like the Winchester house,
I take this room with me
to every home I make.
How unfair that is.
I lose breathe and realize I’m not ready to face the flames,
I’ll lock the door and board the windows once more.
August Rose Crothers, 25, of Orlando has been pursuing writing for the last four years. She started with a poetry page on Instagram to share her poetry and now is on the search for a literary agent to represent her poetry and short story collections. August writes about love, life, and coming of age. August works as a content writer for a marketing group while pursuing publication. She enjoys Marvel and Game of Thrones, reading, and spending time with her partner and puppy at home. Her work has been previously published in Scarlet Leaf Review and Writing in a Woman’s Voice literary journal.