Limits
There are two doors,
and you must choose
one.
Mine was chosen
before I was born
at the moment of conception,
and now
eighteen years
plus two weeks
plus nine months
later
I walk through the door
daily,
and I cannot imagine
choosing one's own door
because
I have never been
denied
entry through mine.
I would lead you through,
but there is no
visitor's pass
for this door,
for this place,
for this world
into which I was born.
I cannot buy you permission.
I cannot disguise you.
I can only take
pictures
with my soul
and print them upon you
with kisses.
I can take that world
into my eyes
and shine it upon you
with the words:
"I love you, my princess"
—but it is not enough.