There it is.

I've got a key
to a door
You've always seen
but I've never touched
it's solid mahogany
rounded by smooth
sharp black lines
that penetrate the wall
just deep enough to
allow the frame to set in.
It's got a silver doorknob
that turns the wrong way,
and when it opens,
it creaks and goes back on itself
in a way that should clearly
break the hinges that are
supposedly fastening it to the wall.
But the wall is gone
and so is the floor
the ceiling
and soon only the door remains
I've got the key,
will you turn it?
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I've been writing a lot of love stuff lately, so I decided to throw in a little of my more abstract stuff.