What The Thunder Said, Vol 4 Vol. 4 | Page 34

34

The Doorman

by Ivy Nguyen

The stride in your walk,

the sway in your hips.

Your head held to the sky,

the tip of your chin sharp as a knife.

I envy the way

you carelessly be.

I shamelessly wish

that could be me.

The stutter I mutter,

the trip in my walk.

My hair in tangles

and terrible knots.

The things i depict

when i see

a look in the mirror,

a spiteful me

You push, I pull.

If only I push, instead of hold doors

for people like you, who never care to say thank you.