Like Keys

Sometimes I feel like we are keys,
like we are the missing pieces of each other,
filling the dents,
sealing the cracks,
suturing up wounds of our pasts.

We are fix'er-up'ers,
the flaws will still be there,
but they will no longer be so glaring,
no longer draw the eye like the once gaping wounds.

Instead there will be patches over holes in the wall,
scars where we once had festering wounds.

But we fit like keys.
How could we ignore something that just worked?
There is a familiarity that just resonates
in the way your hand fits the curve of my hip,
in how your chest feels against my back,
in your eyes, your touch, your voice and your vulnerability.

Vulnerability that I know you wish wasn't there.
You're one of those men of mystery. Strong, silent.
It makes talking to you hard,
makes helping you harder.
But that much more rewarding.

All the things in my chest that
twitch, twist, twine, jerk, stall, crowd..
settle when I'm with you.
turn my insides into calm, warmth, love.
They feel small, insignificant, workable.

I know that your demons don't quiet as easily,
that sometimes nothing can make your head sit still
and just shut up.
I wish I could take this key of me and unlock you.
Give everything I've got to ease you
(because I don't want to fix you,
you are not broken,
just wired,
differently)

Give everything I've got to ease you,
because we fit like keys,
knees to knees,
hips to hips,
heart to heart.