A Constant Knocking

You’re making this easy for me, erasing yourself I mean
My memory is terrible as is without being reminded to forget
Inside my brain there is a stockpile of doors,
Lined up neatly because I wouldn’t have it any other way

Most are closed
Some get blown open by the wind that sneaks in through my ears
A couple of them have a window in them
There's also a row that I've never even opened

Most are locked
Some squeak so much that I have to jam them shut and board them up
A few won't open even if I tried
There are some that slam in my face as soon as they open

If you could walk down the corridors of my brain you would understand
You would see each door has a name carved into it, so delicately
And some that you would swear a monster was hiding behind,
Ready to tear you apart as soon as you touch the doorknob

But there's also a select few that that have managed to get their hands on a doorstop
These doors remain open, never locked
Knocking back and forth against the walls of my heads

All I'm asking you to do, as you scan the halls,
With knife in hand, is please,
Please pick the right door

Ladybug

I want you to know something
or some things,
I want you to know that I'll see you again
I do anyway, just not in reality
As I cocoon myself in blankets I feel something next to me
I've always hated having my face covered
but out of fear that it isn't you outside my fabric cave
I remain underneath

The thought of running out of air while inside always crosses my mind
So I cheat a little and allow for a small hole to let in the cold air
A tiny space between my blanket and the sheets,
too small for anything to peak but big enough for a ladybug to squeeze,
to keep me company whenever she pleased

But the truth of the matter is that it's winter
and there are 6 inches of snow on the ground
And I haven't seen an insect in months
I'm really beginning to miss the spring,
among other things