The Key

There he is, quite a far from where I breathe

Those blithesome days, locked in the chambers of memory

They are chained, almost obscenely painful, for they won’t go

Urging them to leave, to unlock and be set free

Yet they won’t go

In them lives a young maiden;

Fearless & Shrewd

Hypocrisy runs in her blood. Too Cowardly for admittance.

Too drowned in her own image

Dissembling her heart, masking her passion, too conceited to stare at

Truth’s face

A few months of union failed to uncover his letter.

Though it read in stark words, ‘not a love letter’,

The foolish maiden, bought those words, for she was rich in vanity

The brunt of fait was borne by both

She took to black and he took to silence.

They say silence compliments black;

Fair job that it did and blew them apart

There was more silence, an awkward silence, a painful silence

And then came the master of all, the apathetic silence.

Apathy was the dagger straight into the maiden’s bosom

Murdered, silently. Pray, may this a secret stay!

The maiden long gone, was then born a Madam

Who stares in the eyes of truth, walks before any man unscathed

He smiles at the madam again, but tainted smiles don’t last

She smiles at him, bluntly, albeit will always

And thus it continues, the saga

He disappears, he appears, and in all these games,

He is the only player, for the madam retired,

Hackneyed

Her attention is captured by the endeavour to seek

The Key, and be set free