HeartLines

I opened up and I beckoned you in. 
You stood on the threshold with your hands over your eyes. 
Waited for me to shut the doors and 
Dress the windows back up and
Stand in the street with you in the cold.
Now
The door is shut to you but
Still you linger there,
Hand raised to knock on the glass.
You’re shocked, offended even
That the warmth radiating from within these walls no longer reaches 
Where you stand
Your knuckles on the glass meet ice, and
You can’t tell that you’re the one who put it there.
My windows don’t need dressing.
My shelves were not bare.
The sign above the door told you exactly what to expect.
And you waited anyway.
Let the door hang open and
Blocked the way out, the way back in.
Let so much heat out seep out into the night that
The shelves started frosting over.
The trinkets and books and pieces of a girl get stuck in time.
Still your eyes are shut and
You complain of the chill in your bones,
You ignore the layers of blankets draped over your shoulders, and 
The weight of my body trying to shield your own.
                                                         I was cold, too.
But still I let the frost coat my fingertips, and 
Watched my breath cloud in front of me.
I gave you every ember I could muster and 
You kept your feet on the threshold.
                                                         I was cold, too.