we are supposed
to find that one thing
that fits us
like the right key
in a rusty lock
to open the door
of such inspiration
even light

they are supposed to leave
then they will leave
and they will carelessly
toss that key in a big ocean

and we are supposed to
continue to live on
without each other
with a doorknob that squeaks
every time a curious someone
puts their hand on it
in attempt to turn
this door on our chest

only
they find nothing