No keys exist

There are no keys when I start to lock you
in my arms, holding you gingerly, as if you
were the last and rawest egg. I will simply
tighten up just a fraction: my anticipatory
squeeze will be the most gentle of hugs,
insinuating itself behind your defenses.

A little tighter and the hurt destroys
your smile. It hides it behind curtains
of tears. When simple freedoms disappear,
the mind begins to flicker momentarily,
like a match, that flames briefly, to be
extinguished by need running down thighs.

Hope stains the earth. It barely adjusts
to this novel reality where you taste your
captivity. Your imprisoned tongue hardly
remembers the past, for it has discovered
it has been locked in to be taken forever;
and, only then, you recall: no keys exist.