The Key

There’s a cold, dark place in each of us that only a few will ever see. Reaching deep inside of me, I’m trying to find the key. I saw this place, not so long ago when a young man came to me. He turned his back on me and slammed the door for a reason I’ll never know. So hurt and sad I felt inside. I almost wanted to die. Not a tear did I shed over this stone-hearted man. Instead the vivid memory of our tender moments shared are bottled up and put in that place where safely they will keep. Digging and prodding for the key to safely lock the door. I’m seeing more painful memories than I remembered I’d stored. Quick! I must slam the door before more bottles break releasing more dreadful memories whose pain I can’t escape! The key was here all along, dangling from the hole of the heavy door to this deep, dark place which everyone abhors. With the door safely shut and locked, I’m able to stop and think that each time I put a new hurt inside a few bottles must break. Now safe from the pain of that stone-hearted man I can think of the tender moments we shared.

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