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She shuts the door but he knows it isn't locked.

He comes round and opens it sometimes

he doesn't even knock. He just leans on the doorframe without stepping a full foot inside, peering around to make sure the idea of him and her is still sat there somewhere collecting dust on the side.

Like a tea that's gone cold. He stays long enough to make sure she hasn't moved on, tilts his head, a half-smile, and makes sure to mention something about her favourite song. He knows what he's doing. He stays long enough for her to not want him to go. Until the anger on her face melts away. Until he can fully see it in her eyes that all she wants is for him to stay. Leans long enough so the image of won't go from her mind. For his smell to linger hours after he leaves. For that cold cup of tea to stay right where he wants it. And he will leave. Because he always does. He doesn't actually want her. He just wants to know that if he wanted, too, he could. He could have his tea cold. He doesn't want her. But she must belong to him. So he comes back and visits just to make sure that she hasn't really locked that door. 

She shuts the door but he knows it isn't locked.

He comes round and opens it sometimes

he doesn't even knock. He just leans on the doorframe without stepping a full foot inside, peering around to make sure the idea of him and her is still sat there somewhere collecting dust on the side