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Keychains On Collarbones
I am trying to find the backdoor
From this solitary room
The silence is oppressive
Shadows paint the walls with gloom.
The entrance stood wide open
I walked in feeling free
I was naïve and unsuspecting
When you pocketed the key.
I heard a loud jingle
As you sidled across the floor
Then you slipped through, to pull the latch
And boarded up the door.
You claimed to be a man of virtue
One of honour unsurpassed
But those keys that fill your pockets
Are not just tokens of your past.
My heart is held a prisoner
In this empty, lonely space
I wonder if this missing key
Is a bead on your necklace?
Copyright ©
Michelle Mac Donald
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