he found things to fill his time

leaving dream to night time flights of fancy instead of consuming his day

turned to poetry to give the longing an outlet

perhaps

in a half hearted hope that the one with the key would find stumble upon him

in giving up he threw out one last lifeline only to watch it bob on the waves

eventually it became so saturated by the salty need it sank beneath the sea to rest in silt

the lock chafed his skin as he struggled with it in the quiet moments that had become all the moments

he wrote

in the indifference of a world looking past him

or those that couldn’t be bothered

it was easier that way

no one heard the song he sang

but still

he continued to sing