The Boy on the Door
She painted her dream boy right there on her door.
It looked as if he was sitting on the floor.
She would kiss his face, pretend he was real.
The love of that portrait was all she could feel.
She put a recorder in the wood, you see?
She'd pour her heart out to him, a great listener, indeed.
But then something happened that altered her mind,
She met a boy with the real love she'd been hoping to find.
She forgot about the door and was smitten with her prince,
But she denied him the pleasure and she hasn't seen him since.
No one was there to hold her and dry her tears anymore,
So she went back home to the boy on the door.
The ritual continued: tell, cry, kiss, repeat,
Only until she was swept off her feet.
There was the boy no longer stained on the wood.
She was in his arms, frozen where they stood.
Her love was finally real, although it was all along.
You'll find yours someday, you just have to be strong.
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