Every Other Day Is Easter

I never said I’d leave
because I never made it
into your house. Okay,
maybe that once, but you’d
locked the door and hid
behind it, like I was
a trick-or-treater
and it was after 8:00.
Besides, you never shared
your candy anyway.

I never said I’d stay
even if you had opened up
and dared me to try.
I would have breathed in
your smile, drawing back
the sweetness you never shared.

So now I take my leave,
nowhere and never
near enough to exhale
what I might share
beyond these sometimes
sweet words. I leave them
behind other doors,
hiding nuance in them like
they’re candy-filled baskets
and every other day is Easter.


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