Keys to the Moon

My keys are gone.

They disappeared one day and

I think

It may have been the day I met you.

 

Somewhere during our two minute conversation,

My keys were lost.

I think you may’ve taken them.

Stolen them with your brown eyes that are as deep as the ocean

With crinkles around them everytime you smile.

Your smile may be the culprit.

It’s so bright you could’ve taken them while I was blinded.

And with your lips, your smile can’t be beat.

I can’t stop thinking about how your lips look when they say “coffee”

Or “and” or “hello”.

Shakespeare is garbage compared to the way your lips talk about your day.

 

Maybe though, it wasn’t a theft at all.

Maybe I gave them to you willingly.

They weren’t doing me much good anyway,simply rusting out in a corner.

My car has long since broken down and become unused.

You could probably do much more beautiful things with them.

 

You could carve your name into my body and I wouldn’t mind because

Damn, you’ve got the most perfect name.

You could slash my tires and I wouldn’t care,

Because then I’ve got proof that you gave me that much time out of your life.

You could turn the key in the ignition of my car.

Give it life again. Love again.

So that I can recognize that happy hum of newness again.

 

I could take you on a ride to anywhere you wanted to go.

I would drive you to the moon.

We might get old on the way there, and there might be new passengers spring up.

But I know that your eyes would be just as beautiful if the crinkles were a permanent feature.

And I’m sure that your smile would brighten even more when you smiled at them.

There would never be a more beautiful movement of your lips than when you say our son’s name.

Gray would be your color and mine as well.

Slow would be our speed.

Our smaller passengers would get out of the car. Build their own.

We’d make our way to the moon.

And maybe we don’t make it all the way but at least we did it together.

The stars dull and lose their sparkle.

We fade.

 

But I can’t find my keys.

And I know you have them.

Yet you don’t use them.

You don’t start the car, you don’t start our lives.

You steal them. And let them rust.

 

My car is still broken down.

Our passengers are lost.

And the moon still hangs in the sky.

Still too far to go there myself.

 

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