The doors are different.
Yet, they are the same.
I walk on.
And on.
I knock on each one.
No answer.
The light used to rush out of the windows.
You used to be there.
Even the wind and cars race past me.
Your smile made my life.
Why do I go on?
My world is dark.
You probably have no idea.
I will collapse,
from wandering the road
and you will go home.
