Locked up tight in my heart
are memories of you loving me;
though long ago I threw away
that precious small brass key.
You know the key, the little one;
you gave to me with hope.
You know the key, the tarnished one;
tied to the end of my rope.
I carried it for many years,
long after our love had died.
It tarnished up from all my tears,
even those ones I tried to hide.
I carried it around my neck,
it strangled me with its pain.
I carried it like a burden,
for there was nothing more to gain.
Then one day that key snagged,
causing my heart to stumble.
I felt like I was being dragged,
no more reason to be humble.
I cut the rope and left the key
somewhere between 'love' and 'I don't care';
and though the key is gone,
that little rope still hangs right there.
Reminding me of memories,
of broken hearts and loves lost.
and it will always be a part of me,
for in the game of love, that is the cost.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Inspired by @writingprompt on twitter: Small Brass Key
They call me Alaurilee
- Serving Hugs on a Platter and Tears in a Teacup
- I've been writing poetry from the age of 12. It has, and always will be my outlet, my voice. Join me on my journey . . . I can write about almost anything. :) ~ Life doesn't come with a shiny new book; no users manual of answers to find with one look. Life comes with doors that open and shut; and paths laid before us to be followed or passed up. There's things we can learn and things we may teach; hearts that may find us and souls we may reach. Guaranteed on this journey are teacups of tears; and pains that might hurt us may age us by years. But the beauty of life, love, laughter and giving; come from serving hugs on a platter each and every day we're living. ~
