Male hand is knocking on wooden door, conceptual image. Visitor or guest is at the door.

There is a distance between us
it crept in, in silent inches
a distance that renamed us
with careful permanent stitches.

You once called me Sugar
before inches became miles
you’d meet me arms wide
saying “my lover is back”.

Today I arrived home
heard you tell our son
“go open the door
‘somebody’ is back”.

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