Three keys are lying

In the clean and empty

Kitchen cupboard,

Ready to be taken away

By the lady who’s

Checking the flaws,

Our flaws, the ones

We did our best to wash away

Four days in a row,

With acid and with baking soda.

Three keys are aligned,

Three keys, not four:

One of them had slipped

Through the tiny hole of

My white tweed coat

Some time, ages ago.

Maybe I will find

That missing one.

I would sneak

Through the door

That will open up

To a life

Which won’t be ours anymore.

The photos on the wall

Won’t show you or me or

Anyone we know.

The air won’t still smell

Of the cinnamon granola

I made the day before.

You won’t be lying

Asleep on the sofa bed,

Waiting for me

To wake you up.

And still, I might be keeping that key.

Just because

It once opened and 

Shut our world.

Her soprano to my strum
Under stars on someone’s patio.
Sea-breezed highway rides
Stapled to his waist.
Honey-infused coffee, twice
At Dolce: 9 am.
Dozing to her heartbeat
Having conquered paradise.
Carpet, fire, popcorn, blankets
As rains rage outside.
All shapes and neon colours
Running the city at night.
Brownies on my backyard-floor,
Just because we could.
Tablecloth like sugar-coating,
Or like smoke.
Giggly, tipsy, and best cheesecake in the world.
Twerking, jumping, sweating,
Hair sticking to hot heads.
Walking home and feeling safe;
And feeling it still.