Let love in.
It’s been sleeping on your doorstep
in the rain
for what feels like forever now.
Stepping over it has become
a minor inconvenience
to say the least.
Let love in.
You know that rapping on the window,
when the storm hits at midnight,
that’s it
drowning.
Dead and dead again each time
it calls
and you don’t respond.
Let love in you fucking hypocrite;
in from the cold
and the bullshit.
It’s been wanting you from the gutter,
begging for the change
for a fix.
Let love in your door,
down the hall,
into your bedroom
and under your skin.
Right down to the atom,
then shine it out – in every direction.
Let love in like infection,
leaving you no choice at all.
Fatal.
Don’t let it sleep under streetlight again.
It’s been waiting for days
and weeks and months and years,
it’s been right in front of your eyes,
whistling in your ears.
Let love in.
Sure,
it’s been drinking
but could you live with yourself
if anything happened?
A helpless,
innocent victim.
Downtrodden on the pavement
as all the others came and went.
Let love in through your letterbox
like some religious advertisement.
Whatever,
just…
Let.
Love.
In.
© Greg Fiddament
Illustration Nick Victor