Today is the last day of the month,
And yet the end of the week as well.
I have my lock on the fence at the bridge;
That fence lined with all those other rusted locks with hearts doodled in with black sharpie
As if their own hearts weren’t obvious enough shown on their sleeves.
My lock holds my secret,
The deepest part of my ocean.
I hold the key to my secrets in my clammed hand,
Clenching and un-clenching until my hand turns sore.
My arm raised to my left ear,
Just grazing my neck
As I hurl the key to every secret and note kept hidden from the surface of my mysterious ocean.