I've become convinced that love ends in pain.

Maybe not in eternity, but in this life, I believe that's true. Love in this life has an end already written. And it hurts. Giving into love is like locking yourself in a prison, knowing that a lethal injection is the only way out. I used to think that didn't matter to me... "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Well my defense mechanisms are screaming the opposite. They're making the part of love that's supposed to be sweet have a bitter aftertaste. I thought I would choose love, even knowing the end. Now love's been presented to me so nicely, but my guts are in a knot and that lethal injection is haunting me. How do you defy every self-preservation bone in your body for love?

To make it even more difficult, I don't see anyone else struggling with this decision. Other people just embrace the lethal injection without a second thought. They're okay with the trade. They don't even care if a key to the prison exists cause they would never so much as think about taking it. Love is worth it to them...

Why isn't it to me?

What made my defense mechanisms so heightened that I can't deny them for something I want. For something that would be really good... Maybe a key doesn't exist. But my mind found another solution: don't go into the prison. Just avoid the whole thing to begin with. So here I am, stuck in the middle. In what feels like a perpetual struggle between my heart wanting something beautiful and good, but my brain being in fight-or-flight mode trying to protect me. It's exhausting. It's a lot easier just being alone... My life was still so full...
The "happily ever after" side of me wants to believe I'll choose love. But my brain is a realist. And it has a hard time believing I'll choose the prison...

I'm a key without a cute or handy keychain.
Just a key.
I open doors for many,
but not for myself.
I'm a key without a lanyard.
I'm loose and easy to lose.
Just a key.
I'm a key without another key next to me.
No keychain or lanyard to share.
Just a key.

The world today is searching for the key
The future is held in the hands of the youth
Life is what we make it out to be

All of creation stems from one great tree
This we believe to be our truth
The world today is searching for the key

From the shackles that bind us, we are set free
Through joy and thanksgiving our souls are renewed
Life is what we make it out to be

Live your life with patience, perseverance, and purity
In all that you do, let love be imbued
The world today is searching for the key

Growing together from difference toward unity
Sometimes all we need is a new point of view
Life is what we make it out to be

Here we find a living of the highest quality
And from this point we can conclude:
The world today is searching for the key
Life is what we make it out to be

The key circles round to the lock
A lock which is known needs no key
A door that only faces inward  
On the outside has nothing to see

To open the way is to find yourself
Staring at the firmly locked door
To find the key is to notice
You've not needed a key here before

The way to ascend is much lower
Not up or through but behind  
So that door and its lock will remain
Until we let them both leave our mind

Poetry is the window to my soul
The key to my vault
The telescope to my planet

My soul is a brick wall
Heavily fortified
And unbreakable
My mind is a vault
Keeping my thoughts and secrets Locked safely away
My heart is a planet
That can only be seen clearly
Through the right lens

My life is like a challenging riddle
And poetry is the answer to it all

Moments together, are whispers of poetry:
the blush of your smile, like blooms raising their
faces under bright the sun. That tender embrace,
lingers briefly on my lips, within the constraints
of it feeling like a haiku.

Their sweetness becomes fleeting memories; a struggle
to capture- not to keep thinking about it long after
I’m on a quest, fervently seeking sustenance in the form
of love and affection. Tears dripping, as a gardener’s rake,
trying to bring in evoking emotions, that resonate deeply
within my soul.

The covering of a tough persona, is now like jackets
that are discarded- through gloved hands, a palm still holds
onto the memory of your love. And no cold seeps out;
a spring in my step, that dance through my thoughts
Morning shivers soon vanish, once of a closed heart, as its
doors were slammed- jammed!

“Do you possibly have that
right key to have it unlocked”

you are my defender,
I don't need a pretender,
you hold the lock and key,
to my heart; set me free,
from the misogyny.

The same rose, still ablaze scorching red,  
A ****** from realms yet untread,  
That unfolds upon the ancient, earthen bed—  
But heed the thorn; this way one cannot tread.

Every morning the nightingale sings her song,  
Leaps into melody, ere the day grows long.  
Down the moon’s open eye, once strong,  
To unlock the door, one must belong.

In the quietude, beneath the moon’s aged grace,  
Maybe lies a key forged in shadow,
The sun slides down, lights a candle at a silent pace.  
Who claims this boon, who dares to embrace,  
Must know the rose’s fire, the nightingale’s chase.

The same rose, still red hot,  
the ****** from the other world,  
wide open on the ancient Earth—  
mind the thorn, though;  
this way, the door is closed!

Every morn, the nightingale  
hops onto singing before the sun pops.  
In the shadow of the visited moon,  
keying in the door must be someone's boon!