The White Door

The dark shadows of an empty kitchen.
The hum of the fridge.
The muffled thumps of the music just behind the heavy white door.
Its click when you unlocked it
Its creak when you pushed it open
The darkness of it
The wholeness of it
As it led me into where we were months and months ago.
The hair I was trying to pull off of my neck
Your eyes I was trying to pretend I didn't notice
The silence I was desperately hoping would remain.
It didn't.
"I would take back France for you."
Echoing through my head
Like a record on a loop.
Why?
I didn't want to know.
Instead I smiled at that heavy white door
Politely requesting it pull me back out
The click of the lock
The light pouring in
The moving bodies
The sticky air
The desire to leave you behind
(half-hearted)
Trying my best to do so.