The key fits the lock, but it no longer feels

like the place where I dreamed, where I healed, where I kneeled.

Walls once familiar now distant and cold,

where memories gather, untended and old.

The door swings wide to a hollow sound,

echoes of laughter no longer around.

I step inside, but the warmth is gone,

the light dimmed low, the colors withdrawn.

Footsteps fall where love used to live,

but the rooms have nothing left to give.

I turn each corner, search each space,

for traces of comfort, a lingering grace.

Pictures on walls, faces I know—

yet somehow they’re strangers, shadows in tow.

The table set as it once had been,

but even its surface feels paper-thin.

The chair in the corner, the rug by the door,

they look like mine, yet they aren’t anymore.

It’s all still here, but so much is lost—

the warmth of a fire now dusted with frost.

The key fits the lock, but it’s clear to see,

this house holds no more room for me.

So I leave it behind, let the memories roam,

for this door, once open, no longer feels home.