Open hearts have to close sometimes

And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you’re blown apart
Everybody feels the wind blow …

– Paul Simon, ‘Graceland’

“Close the door, you’re letting all the warmth out”.

It’s autumn and the dying leaves are skittering over the porch, whistling over the concrete step

The chilly gusts swoop and swirl round the doorframe, over my arms, making me shiver.

My heart aches like a cavitied tooth when it meets ice cream; cold right to the bone.

“But he might come back… I can’t close the door; what if he comes back?”

I look out on the bleakness, search for vacant signs of life.

They shake their heads, pitying me mutely.

“Close the door, love.”

I know. I know.

He’s gone.

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