My Windowless Room

You built a windowless room
and put me there
A cold and dark place
but you did not lock
the door
I did

I locked myself in that place
and let the years of darkness
wrap me in the comfort
of consistent misery

I did not long to escape
but found solace in the
emptiness of my soul
laid open by the pain
of loss and the torture
of what might have been

And then one day a single leaf
floated under the door
landing silently at my feet
I lifted it, inhaling spring
and remembered life
before the room

With the leaf in my pocket
I crossed the threshold
stepping out of the safety
of my companions of shadow
and felt the sun on my face

I turned to look,
but the room was gone
and I forgave you for
putting me there
and I forgave myself
for staying