Mismatched

A lock has a key
but that key may not be me.

I twist painfully in that realization
when I should have slid in
with little or no effort.

You said, once,
you’re the key to joy, to life itself.
You said, you’re the key to a forever door.

So I waited for the click.
But it turns out, I am the wrong key
to be stuck in you.

I turn and turn, wearing my edges down,
while the lock refuses
what it was made to refuse.

Almost right, yet not quite.
We’re bound by mechanics, teeth interlocked
till we can be broken.

Author's Note

A mistake.

Reviews

[Rosie E C…]

I’m very intrigued by this. Such a compelling read.

I admire the flow to this poem. It doesn’t make the reader feel stumbled upon. It’s very swift and gentle.

This speaks very deeply of a relationship dynamic that was not meant to be. Hopefully, the mistake cleans up itself before escalating into a mess.

This is very enlightening and thoughtful. A pleasure to read.

[BuzzyB]

Thank you very much R E Tree. I'm grateful for your kind thoughts on this poem.

[Kenneth The Poet]

A mistake maybe, but that mistake made for beautiful prose nonetheless. Every lock has a key unless one or both are malformed and you echo that sentiment beautifully.

[BuzzyB]

Indeed, and its about finding the right key. I'm truly grateful for your very encouraging words.

[Thomas W Case]

That ache of almost fits like metal grinding in the dark—brutal and honest.
Love isn’t force; sometimes it’s knowing when to stop turning the key.

[BuzzyB]

Indeed, love must not feel forced. I truly aporeciate your thoughts. Thank you so much.