That big grin matches your significant O

"The problem with being attached to an anchor is it's damned hard to fly." _Half Broke Horses (p 258)

Suffocation key was unlocked last night.
Jostling, it finally broke the bolt, and I could see through this tiny door possibilities that just weren't for me.
The key led to a presentation of dinner tables, clinking glasses and chinky grins,
Wide-eyed do-gooders and hearty lips brewing futures,
Laced eyes coaxed with salty mascara and yearning for a different key.
No buffer and food, lots of gumption,
Reasons for feeling padded and thick - sounds like "poo poo poof!"
Chocolate layers sticky with ties of friendships.

The door was better shut when it came to kisses and arm reaches,
I don't want your secret garden relationship.
Stomach flips of disgust over hand engagement,
Teeth chomping on skin,
Limbs swinging in "hey ya's,"
Groovy in side glances filled with bubbly, licorice grins.
Two missing.
How come I have the key but can't move past the doorway?

Instead intimidation matters, filled with self-professed prophecies and illusions,
Stuff our mouths and pretend to come out as words.
Light this face up with a glow stick maybe you'll see what's inside now,
No reflection, you're in the moat past the doorway,
enthusiastically on your way to a caucus of monotony.

Ways of misunderstanding and understood by people in two's,
standing strong and walking briskly in sync,
henceforth, leaning over the top of a cliff ready to jump off into oblivion together.