The Hallway Has No Stories

the door opens and closes,
both motives are made clear.
it is the mutual agony
that keeps the eyeballs rolling
abrupt and effortless;
a pair meeting another -a window is left ajar.
alas, a smile is born.

somebody intervenes; the door is closed.
and oh, the longing…
the heightening pain of blindness.
but one fathoms the scene
with eyes that could shatter a glass pane
and sees the silhouette alive through fog and filth.
the silhouette covered by a stupid another.
alas, the smile fades.

the sullen bell is heard, the door is opened.
the outline of a figure flawless and exquisite
amidst a crowd that travels with time
and alas, the smile is returned.

all are forgotten.
all are understood.
all are plain and blithe.
but all are guarded smiles within a stereotyped sight.

as if innocent, the door opens.
just another plain situation
within two different worlds -
beyond is the shattered soul,
behind is a seeking heart.
someone shuts the door close.
the story is left untold.