I knew I promised I’d keep writing,
I don’t break promises,
so I’m writing,
but you don’t know that.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,
it’s only that the leaves started to fall,
and I started to fall in love with old flames and blades,
so I asked God,
if He would please,
put eleven deadbolts on my heart,
and then toss the key in the Thames,
just so I could save myself from you.

My heart is healing
and soon won’t need such protection.
Don’t worry, He can craft new keys,
and don’t even think,
not even for a second
that I want anyone but you
to slowly take off the locks,
one by one, slowly,
one, two, three…eleven.

I promised I’d keep writing,
and I’m writing, and please just know,
that even though the keys sunk to the bottom
of the river, don’t even think that means
I didn’t try eleven times every day
to rip the eleven deadbolts from my chest
just to get closer to you.