Standing beside a closed door

I stand beside an adventure that is winding down as it speaks and talks in emotions, pulling me closer and pushing me away, with short adjectives, simple pokes of indifference into my world that looks flat from my eyes.
I stand beside words, only hearing the ones that are new, the rest are tumbling on the ocean floor.
I had fallen in love inside the world of nothing again, the empty promises of creatures that are created so easily through the soft laughter of white lies.
The rain, while I wrapped myself in tight white strings. Waiting for the yesterdays, the I's who have no weight, they gather like black angels with no heart, expecting to create boundaries, the place between Tuesday and Thursday.
I am alone inside an empty promise and I gravel with the rug, trying to weave together the men who I used to know, as if their memory can keep me warm. The men who abandoned me, one by one, sentence by sentence, as our relationships became worn.
I hold on to the empty air and a life I have never lived.