me, under lock and key

Locks are such powerful things.

They can hold your most precious things safe, or they can hold you hostage. They can induce extreme peace, or overwhelming suffocation. Different sides of the same coin, and sometimes it feels like it’s flipping it the air and you’re waiting just as much as anyone to see which side comes up.

Freedom, or captivity.
It all depends on who holds the key.

I think the honor of holding a key is quite often overlooked. It’s a privilege, a responsibility. When you hold the key to a house, or a car, or a building; it’s a sign of trust and of some sort of ownership. Leave it to me to make things metaphorical; but let’s just say that what you hold the key to isn’t a thing, but a person.
We are all a lock, with our own special key.

And here, we wait; patient. What holds us to these chains is powerless against the one that can set us free. So much of our lives are spent holding tight to something that feels solid, all the while knowing it’s filled to the brim with holes; no chance of being whole. That’s where the key comes in. But here, things can get difficult for the lock and key. See; the lock is rusted out from staying stagnant, meanwhile circumstances beyond it’s control weathered the key and it’s just not as sharp as it used to be. So many things to overcome; the waiting, the timing, the fitting, but finally; the release. It’s the thing people spend their whole lives waiting to feel.

When you have the key to unlock your own mansion of a person; the whole package (I’m talking hot tub, 4 shower heads, viking appliances, library ladder perfect)…. you don’t lose that key. You don’t give it away, you aren’t careless with it. You keep it on a ring kept at your hip, close always. (Or in my case, tied to my running shoes… you can accuse me of running, it’s probably true, but my intention is always to come back to You.)

When someone gives you the key that opens them up; you better hope to God you don’t lose it.
The only thing worse than throwing away the perfect key; it’s becoming your own lock; not free.

all these keys have been stalking me;
everywhere I look. I’ve been working on writing this for weeks,
but didn’t quite have the words.
Meanwhile, the concept followed me from Hollywood, to the Atlantic Sea;
the conclusion was found waiting for me;
in the midst of one more lie from you,
and Hope for me.

we’re all Waiting for the perfect Key.

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2 thoughts on “me, under lock and key

  1. Colleen you do it to me every time. I loved this entry..and feel very close to your words. Please don’t ever stop writing..even if it takes a while for the words to come out.

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