A Door
The green door, that green door where Joe was displayed was smaller than I expected. Bigger in my mind than in reality but you could feel the memories in the wood and steel when you rested your hands against it. But it was only a door.

It is only a door
Shorter, slimmer
The green harsh
Paint peeling
Steel hinges rusting

One bolt missing
Lost? no it was stolen
She is gone now too
Not a thief, never before
But needing something real

You held her heart
She wanted to touch
The last place you had rested
To know that your hair
Had brushed against that place

Someone that was yours
Who could not every day stand
Palms pressed on the lockup door
So instead she stole
From the ones that stole you from her

One small bolt carried close
Resting against her skin
One last connection
To the man that you were
To the spirit that you are