Knocking Until Autumn

I’m calling you—

under a moonless night.

I don’t call the world.

I don’t call ghosts.

I don’t call anyone.

Just you.

The wind carries my voice,

soft,

careful—

but you shut your heart

before it reaches the door.

The sweat of him.

The sweat of you.

Bodies louder than love.

Skin louder than memory.

There’s no space for me

between those breaths.

So I knock.

I wait.

I wait.

I wait.

The door stays quiet.

The night keeps watching.

And I keep knocking—

until autumn crawls into my bones,

until my voice dries out,

until my soul

learns the sound

of unanswered doors.