Routinely

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A closet door stands open in front of my eyes.
I look long enough to contemplate.
I hesitate to shut it, hesitate to leave it open.
It annoys me with purpose.
Secretly, I know once again-
It will have to swing open.
It will need to.
And yet, after deliberation, I push it shut.
Hard as I can.
Hard as I maybe am.
Time passes in the busyness I create.
Over and over and over-
back in front of this door,
I forgot I put it away.

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