Lost, but found.
Dead inside, now alive.
Feelings asleep,
walled inside.
Kept safe from
things harmful.
Along she comes.
A key in hand.
Fear swells, as
she unlocks the
doors one by one.
Where did the
key come from?
How did she
end up with it?
A key forged of
love and trust.
A key specific to
my doors.
As the final
door opens,
a glimpse of
the key reveals
its origins.
I made that key.
I buried that key.
She found it.
Dug it up and
upon touching
the key was
granted its use.
Given the power
of its use.
Power of the
Skeleton key.
I’m obsessed with skeleton keys! And the idea that our love holds the key to our heart and it’s a skeleton key is brilliant. “I made the key, I buried that key” – lovely. I love all the romantic notions bound up in someone who holds the key to our heart and knows all our secrets. Beautifully done.