skeleton key

there are long forgotten doors inside her hearts hallways

they creak tenderly when opened

lonely for discovery

locked and bolted by her intellect; they wait

kept company by the phantoms of fair weather friends

and the pale corpses of cowardly lovers

those who endeavor with patience

those whose footsteps reverberate

down her corridors

reveal unknown variations of a woman

her moods – her regrets

her bliss – her dreams

her words – her weapons

a true self hidden somewhere among

a goddess – a dragon

a villain – a succubus

a mother – a mercenary

those who escape her mazes and mind fucks

still wonder

how they can manage to be

her skeleton key

a.duncan, 2016


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"She would fill endless notebooks with stories about the characters in her life, their impressions, words, friends, lovers, inspirations, fantasies. She spent her days dreaming up worlds where they fit together in visions; the if only, the never again, the someday. Those who knew her best would describe her as a creature with a clear and sometimes painful sense of herself; furious with ideas and convictions, to a point that she frightened love away with discernment and a relentless strength of character."

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