I had a necklace once,
a key that never opened anything.
A soft white heart string
tied around my neck.
Then there was the ocean
and the sudden idea that keys belonged
more to it than to me.
The waves were waiting.
Stomach pressed to splintering boards
reaching for the small string on my neck,
twisting over damp hair,
slipping through silent fingers.
Now, even if there was a door to a long lost room
or a chest full of somebody else’s dreams
I will never open it.
And there is a piece of me sinking
to the bottom of that ocean,
a slice of my existence,
a reminder that somewhere out there,
I’m still waiting for a chance to float.