Returning Home

Approaching the door hesitantly, warily. I reach for the bell and push. My arrival announced, serves to feed my fear, of denial and rejection. I left here silently, when you were not looking. Slipping away, ghostly. It was not until I err'd that you knew I had left. and that error was enough for most to close the door forever. At the door now, waiting for your reply. The threshold of your heart has never looked so frightening. Am I more afraid of being turned away, or of being accepted and living with my guilt? Do I fear your love and your forgiveness? Or my own inability to let bygones be bygones? Regardless of my fear, here I am, at the door to your heart, at the door to my home.