I lost my key somewhere.
Somewhere, sometime when I decided to be strong. When I decided that I would live alone and independent.
I couldn’t let my key be hostage by a man.
From my verandah, looking at the river flowing, I let the key fall off my hand. I saw it going down. I saw it disappear through the waves.
A bird told me the released keys would eventually reach the graveyard. Not sure when, though. Some take days. Some take years. Some take an eternity. Some just decide to decay before arriving at the graveyard.
I met you. I wanted the key so that I can feel my heart. I wanted the key so that it will tell me that I can open up my heart.
Where is the key?
I went to look for my key. In the graveyard of keys. The sea of keys. The keys to so many hearts.
I was in all fours. Trying to find my key.
I cannot remember what the key looked like.
I cry and cry. I can’t remember what the key looked like. Bronze, gold, silver, rust metal?
Did it decay in the river? River of feelings? is this a punishment for throwing away the key? The key that I should’ve held on to.
What’s the worth finding the key? It may be rusted. My door may be rusted. Will it open the door? Really?
I cried like a kid that I can’t find the key.
Then you reach your hand towards me. Me, confused, take the hand.
You open my fist which was so closed tightly. I didn’t even notice that I closed the fist.
A key is dropped on my palm. A key. Rusted, and hardly in the shape of a key.
I tilt my head in confusion and look at you.
‘This won’t…’
You stop me. You look confident that it is the key to me.
I hand back the key to you. You look surprised.
‘Will you open it for me?’ I ask.
‘Sure’ You say with a confident smile.
What will it feel like when the key clicks?