Poetry

That Same Old Familiar Feeling

Starting off

Learning each other

Hanging out

Enjoying company with one and other

 

Slowly trusting more

Getting close

Opening closed doors

Is what I fear the most

 

For, my doors have been opened one to many times

Through liars

Through users

To many countless lies

 

My door has been walked through

And stepped all over

But never just to talk to

And to try to get to know more of

 

My door is made of Mangrove wood

Very special wood indeed

And you truly would have known

If you hadn’t walked right through me

 

But I thought this time was different

Although we are just children

I know Mangrove seems insignificant

But it really is magnificent

 

I can always feel it coming

Maybe it’s my overthinking

Or my overtrying

 

Overtime things start revealing

And I start to feel

That same old familiar feeling

 

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