In the Hallway

At the door I stand afraid to knock, 

afraid to announce my presence lest I give away my position, 

my anonymity, 

myself.  

It’s safer here in the darkness of the hallway, 

where someone has removed the bulb from its socket above my head.  

From here, 

I can hide unobserved, 

unnoticed.  

I can wait until you crack the door, 

peak your head out to check if I’m here, 

waiting. 

Or if I have – in fact – come.  

And you will crack the door; 

I have full confidence in that.  

I know you well; 

you just can’t help but peak.  

What I don’t know is how long I’ll wait, 

or what I’ll do when you look.  

Will I wave?  

Will I speak?  

Or will I hide in the darkness, 

comfortable in the shadows where there is no risk.

What I’d like most if for the situation to be reversed.  

I would like to be the one safely on the inside.  

You should be the one hiding in the shadows, 

or waiting in the light – for the light in my hallway is always on.  

I make sure of it.  

I am, 

after all, 

the one who buys the light bulbs.  

If it’s dark, 

it’s because I removed the bulb on purpose, 

because I knew you were coming, 

and maybe I didn’t want to see what was hiding,
lurking
stalking me in the shadows. 

But that’s not what’s happening, 

is it?  

That is my just a dream, 

my fantasy, 

or maybe it’s my greatest desire - to be pursued.  

If I have to chase down my dream, 

it is no longer enjoyable, 

and becomes a chore, 

like buying light bulbs.  

I want you to hang out in my hallway for awhile, 

and wait for me to crack the door. 

Or maybe I should just bring a light bulb next time,
so it isn’t so dark here.  

I sure wish you’d hurry.  

I’ve knocked twice already. 

Are you even home?