it's going on a long journey
with your suitcase packed
with all the essentials, you've
got your heart stowed safely
in your pocket and your coat
on your back, and every sunset
so many miles away from where
you started is beautiful. but now
you're finally home, the steps you
take all the way up to the front
door are assured and it all feels
so right but when you put your
key into the lock it doesn't
fit.

it's standing with your feet on the
mat and you haven't even taken
your shoes off and your suitcase
rests by your feet and your backpack
is growing heavier by the second and
the straps are cutting into your
shoulders but you can't breathe
and you can't see because you're
jamming the key into the lock
and you're confused so confused
and it just it just it just doesn't
fit.

it's looking through the windows
and seeing everything you've ever
known through glass panes and
nothing has changed within or maybe
it has but it hasn't, it hasn't and
everything is the same. the address
the mailbox the garden the door
(the lock?) it's all the same and you've
got that selfsame key in your hand,
but that can't have changed, only
you're trying, trying, but it still doesn't
fit.

it's watching the storm clouds gather
behind you and come closer closer
too close and you're screaming now,
your fists are slamming against the
wood and you're twisting the ****
and you think maybe if you cry loud
enough someone will come and open
it for you but nobody ever comes
and the lightning's about to strike you
down but the key just doesn't
fit.

it's the rain soaking you to the bone
and nobody has come for you and
the mat says welcome in gold and
red beneath your skinned knees and
you're looking at that key in your hand
and now you finally see it for what it is,
it's bent, twisted, rusted, broken, and
you finally understand why it doesn't
fit.

(and you wish someone had told you
that no matter how safely you keep
your key and how often you oil it one
day it's still going to fall apart betwixt
your fingers. you wish someone had told
you that no matter how far you run and no
matter how many times you say goodbye
and no matter how ready you think you are
you are never truly ready to leave and it
never stops hurting any less. you wish
someone had told you that the moment you
locked the door behind you, you should
have dropped your key in the grass because
no longer, not ever, never again, will it
fit.)