The key scrapes sharp a rusty bite

The key scrapes sharp, a rusty bite,

a morning crack in fading light.

The lock gives way with whispered groan,

a sound I’ve heard but can’t own.

Sidewalk crack beneath my step,

a perfect moment tightly kept.

The sky hung low in muted gray,

like this exact thing happened yesterday.

A twist, a turn, a breath between—

a slip of time, the spaces unseen.

Familiar now but never new,

a shadowed step I can’t undo.