They’re selling old bunches of keys
not for escape, or entrance, or safety
to keep the doctors and lawyers at bay,
but as ornament, rustic and rusty
in the palm of your hand, clinking
against themselves, teeth interlocked
and grinding, edges chipped and trying to find
a lock, a home, that doesn’t exist
“Here’s your key. Have a nice stay.”
I walked through the long dark hallways of the shady hotel until I got to my room. I unlocked the door and found a cleaning lady feeding a chicken.
“Please don’t tell on me”
I turned around, closed the door, and slept in my car that night.
He has the key to my heart, the key to my soul. Not that it was very hard to get since it has always been on my sleeve. He better not ruin it, let it rust out in the rain. For, even though I love him, that doesn’t mean that I trust him anymore with any part of me that can be broken.
He has the key to my heart and soul, and I let him know it. It shows right on my sleeve…nothing hidden. Beautiful, hateful…something to be both feared and adored. I can only hope that he doesn’t lose it, doesn’t let it become desecrated…for that would ruin me as well.
the key to some forms of art is just going with it. when i made that scrapbook, over there, i just threw things onto it. i didnt think about how it looked who what other people would think when they saw it.
One door for all of us to use personally. I wish I had my own keys for all my bits and pieces of personality. I wish I could lock away my anger and jealousy. And I wish I could hold onto my love until I was ready to let it go before it spilled out all over the place.
Keys unlock doors. This makes me think of the Korean drama I watched yesterday. Iljimae can really pick a lock. No key necessary. Koreans sure know how to make dramas, with their awful endings. SO SAD. Well, I can see my time is almost up.
Grabbing the keys he moved for the door, pausing only long enough to express him impatience to his dallying daughter. She was always late; hell, she was even born late. It was frustrating at times, but there was little he could do to motivate her beyond simple exasperated reproaches.
Key? That’s it? That’s my one word? So simple, yet complex. It could be the key to greatness, or the key to great destruction. The key to mankind, or the key to alien lifeforms. Whatever the key is, I hope it’s a good one.
A key to a heart, a keystroke, a keystone. A key to everything I wanted and a key to lock away anything I want to forget. You were the key to me finding my dreams. You are the key to my agony. Keying a car is a terrible thing to do. Singing off key may be worse. Keys get lost all the time.
Hanging around my neck, rusty and heavy. He gave it to me two weeks ago and said I had to find the door, but he wouldn’t come with me. I miss him so much, I don’t know where to go, but I’m walking. Running really, to try and find more information, to know where I’m going. If he’ll be there to meet me.
it’s the thing we fear most the one thing we’re never sure we’re ready for and the truth is we probably aren’t but who would be who would be ready to be completely vulnerable completely lost in the world on their own account i cannot think of i time i was truly ready to find love but then again love has found me without my even expecting it.
we may never be truly ready to find love, but love is always ready to find us.
Der Schlüssel klemmte im Schloss. Sie ruckelte vorsichtig hin und her und spürte ein beißendes Gefühl aus dem Bauch in die Kehle aufsteigen. Ihr Ruckeln wurde stärker und der Schlüssel brach.
my son really likes keys. we never throw keys away, we add them to his keychain. janet jackson used to wear a single key earring and some people thought it was cool. i’ve always thought the jackson’s were a weird lot.
On my lanyard, I have 5 keys. My house key, the key for work along with the two other keys for things at work, and the key to my bosses house. Everyday when I pull out my lanyard I look at all those keys and I feel accomplished. To me, somebody with a lot of keys is somebody who has worked hard.
The key was jammed into the keyhole and turned quickly. Silently glancing around, Madeline slipped through the dark doorway, cursing as she tripped over the threshold on her way out. They would have heard that, she was sure of it.
Key goes into a lock. It usually unlocks a door. It comes in different colors of metals and can have the cool top thing of it to make it stand out. If you don’t have the right key, the door won’t open. Keys make a lot of noise in my purse.
sometimes i wish i had a key to unlock all the opportunities in my life. i often feel that i am trapped by the place i am in my lie. i really want to graduate and be able to find a job and move back to london. i have nothing to look forward to in grays except long journeys and isolation especially now my nan is getting her own life but i don’t begrudge her that.
I hadn’t a clue where to start searching for the portal. All I had was this flimsy key that disappeared when I forgot about it. Sounds harmless save for the fact that it’s hard to keep your mind on a two inch key when being chased by 8 foot velociraptors.
a key, a man with a key is a king. i remember those phrase from sherlock bbc. i think thats true. but what it is the key? i think is a brain. your key is your brain.
It sits sharply in my palm, sticky with sweat and memories, and I know from the feel that it will taste of rust and iron and forgotten things. The hard edges catch at my fingers as I lift it to my mouth, and open wide. My tongue reaches out to grasp at it, all muscles and no hesitation, and for a moment I feel it there in the hollow between tongue and throat. Then it is slipping smoothly down and I think I can hear the click and whirr of things unravelling and reshaping and opening up, wide and new and vulnerable.
My hand trembled as I slowly slid the silver key into the lock. I didn’t know quite what was behind that door, but I wanted to find out.
Really!
I exhaled as I heard it click the lock out of place, then carefully pushed my way into the room.
the key turned in the lock, and i immediately took recluse under my covers. three thirty six am and i am awake, trembling with fear. i do not want to hear his hands and his words and his whispers and i just want to sleep, fall into my pleasantly distorted reality. where the boy in my study hall class comes to save me, where he makes sure everything is all right, where he promises i am just fine. i hate waking up. i hate when my sleep is prevented.
He had his key in his hand and watched the guy walk into the bar. Having never done that sort of thing he was amazed to realize how hard it was to actually scratch the surface of the car’s paint job. Really had to exert some force. Really had to gouge it good. He felt a sense of satisfaction even as his gut twisted in anxiety over the potential of being caught. Time for a beer. “Maybe I’ll buy him one. He’s going to have a pissy night.”
There’s this Korean R&B group I listen to called SHINee and they have a member named Key. His real name is Kim Kibeom. He’s very confident and I admire him.
Under lock and key, your heart was. You told me you had it hidden away, because when you didn’t then others came and broke it. You told me you had to trust someone before you gave them the key again. You can trust me. You can let me in.
She stared at the key that had been posted through her letterbox. Who had delivered it to her? Why had they done such a thing? And which lock would it open? There had been no note left for her to explain anything.
A key. It opens locks.
“The key to my heart.”
Blah, Blah, Blah.
I don’t care about keys…
To get to my heart you’re going to need to break that god damned wall.
They’re selling old bunches of keys
not for escape, or entrance, or safety
to keep the doctors and lawyers at bay,
but as ornament, rustic and rusty
in the palm of your hand, clinking
against themselves, teeth interlocked
and grinding, edges chipped and trying to find
a lock, a home, that doesn’t exist
“Here’s your key. Have a nice stay.”
I walked through the long dark hallways of the shady hotel until I got to my room. I unlocked the door and found a cleaning lady feeding a chicken.
“Please don’t tell on me”
I turned around, closed the door, and slept in my car that night.
He has the key to my heart, the key to my soul. Not that it was very hard to get since it has always been on my sleeve. He better not ruin it, let it rust out in the rain. For, even though I love him, that doesn’t mean that I trust him anymore with any part of me that can be broken.
He has the key to my heart and soul, and I let him know it. It shows right on my sleeve…nothing hidden. Beautiful, hateful…something to be both feared and adored. I can only hope that he doesn’t lose it, doesn’t let it become desecrated…for that would ruin me as well.
A key can open up anything. A door, a heart, and an adventure are just a few of these things. But once you have a key, you can go anywhere.
the key to some forms of art is just going with it. when i made that scrapbook, over there, i just threw things onto it. i didnt think about how it looked who what other people would think when they saw it.
One door for all of us to use personally. I wish I had my own keys for all my bits and pieces of personality. I wish I could lock away my anger and jealousy. And I wish I could hold onto my love until I was ready to let it go before it spilled out all over the place.
Keys unlock doors. This makes me think of the Korean drama I watched yesterday. Iljimae can really pick a lock. No key necessary. Koreans sure know how to make dramas, with their awful endings. SO SAD. Well, I can see my time is almost up.
Grabbing the keys he moved for the door, pausing only long enough to express him impatience to his dallying daughter. She was always late; hell, she was even born late. It was frustrating at times, but there was little he could do to motivate her beyond simple exasperated reproaches.
Key? That’s it? That’s my one word? So simple, yet complex. It could be the key to greatness, or the key to great destruction. The key to mankind, or the key to alien lifeforms. Whatever the key is, I hope it’s a good one.
A key to a heart, a keystroke, a keystone. A key to everything I wanted and a key to lock away anything I want to forget. You were the key to me finding my dreams. You are the key to my agony. Keying a car is a terrible thing to do. Singing off key may be worse. Keys get lost all the time.
Hanging around my neck, rusty and heavy. He gave it to me two weeks ago and said I had to find the door, but he wouldn’t come with me. I miss him so much, I don’t know where to go, but I’m walking. Running really, to try and find more information, to know where I’m going. If he’ll be there to meet me.
Key concepts. Without them all the things you learn in class blend into one other. Every lesson you write needs something that Stands Out.
they key to my powers slowly unlock as i walk my path, each footstep a piece to the combination that brings answers, until i die,binds lay waiting.
it opens the door. it’s important. it’s little. i always loose it. the time is going on. i can’t speak english. purple.
You hold the key to that door, that opens my heart. They key to it all, I will fall apart.
it’s the thing we fear most the one thing we’re never sure we’re ready for and the truth is we probably aren’t but who would be who would be ready to be completely vulnerable completely lost in the world on their own account i cannot think of i time i was truly ready to find love but then again love has found me without my even expecting it.
we may never be truly ready to find love, but love is always ready to find us.
To open my world, my secret world
Take it and I’m yours
But you have to find the *serrure*
or you’ll fail !
Der Schlüssel klemmte im Schloss. Sie ruckelte vorsichtig hin und her und spürte ein beißendes Gefühl aus dem Bauch in die Kehle aufsteigen. Ihr Ruckeln wurde stärker und der Schlüssel brach.
my son really likes keys. we never throw keys away, we add them to his keychain. janet jackson used to wear a single key earring and some people thought it was cool. i’ve always thought the jackson’s were a weird lot.
On my lanyard, I have 5 keys. My house key, the key for work along with the two other keys for things at work, and the key to my bosses house. Everyday when I pull out my lanyard I look at all those keys and I feel accomplished. To me, somebody with a lot of keys is somebody who has worked hard.
The lonely dungeons of the mind held the key to absolution. An absolution than lingered standstill. In the standstill abundance of a momentary lapse.
The key was jammed into the keyhole and turned quickly. Silently glancing around, Madeline slipped through the dark doorway, cursing as she tripped over the threshold on her way out. They would have heard that, she was sure of it.
Key goes into a lock. It usually unlocks a door. It comes in different colors of metals and can have the cool top thing of it to make it stand out. If you don’t have the right key, the door won’t open. Keys make a lot of noise in my purse.
sometimes i wish i had a key to unlock all the opportunities in my life. i often feel that i am trapped by the place i am in my lie. i really want to graduate and be able to find a job and move back to london. i have nothing to look forward to in grays except long journeys and isolation especially now my nan is getting her own life but i don’t begrudge her that.
I peeped through the keyhole. I can’t remember exactly what I felt. A mix of excitement, fear (of getting caught) and curiosity.
ope th door car door can open with this gold silver
I hadn’t a clue where to start searching for the portal. All I had was this flimsy key that disappeared when I forgot about it. Sounds harmless save for the fact that it’s hard to keep your mind on a two inch key when being chased by 8 foot velociraptors.
the key to life is remaining open…
keep your heart unlocked and trust in love.
the key to dying is to simply close the door.
Do you ever find a key hidden in a drawer and you have no idea what it unlocks.
a key, a man with a key is a king. i remember those phrase from sherlock bbc. i think thats true. but what it is the key? i think is a brain. your key is your brain.
It sits sharply in my palm, sticky with sweat and memories, and I know from the feel that it will taste of rust and iron and forgotten things. The hard edges catch at my fingers as I lift it to my mouth, and open wide. My tongue reaches out to grasp at it, all muscles and no hesitation, and for a moment I feel it there in the hollow between tongue and throat. Then it is slipping smoothly down and I think I can hear the click and whirr of things unravelling and reshaping and opening up, wide and new and vulnerable.
My hand trembled as I slowly slid the silver key into the lock. I didn’t know quite what was behind that door, but I wanted to find out.
Really!
I exhaled as I heard it click the lock out of place, then carefully pushed my way into the room.
the key turned in the lock, and i immediately took recluse under my covers. three thirty six am and i am awake, trembling with fear. i do not want to hear his hands and his words and his whispers and i just want to sleep, fall into my pleasantly distorted reality. where the boy in my study hall class comes to save me, where he makes sure everything is all right, where he promises i am just fine. i hate waking up. i hate when my sleep is prevented.
He had his key in his hand and watched the guy walk into the bar. Having never done that sort of thing he was amazed to realize how hard it was to actually scratch the surface of the car’s paint job. Really had to exert some force. Really had to gouge it good. He felt a sense of satisfaction even as his gut twisted in anxiety over the potential of being caught. Time for a beer. “Maybe I’ll buy him one. He’s going to have a pissy night.”
There’s this Korean R&B group I listen to called SHINee and they have a member named Key. His real name is Kim Kibeom. He’s very confident and I admire him.
Under lock and key, your heart was. You told me you had it hidden away, because when you didn’t then others came and broke it. You told me you had to trust someone before you gave them the key again. You can trust me. You can let me in.
She stared at the key that had been posted through her letterbox. Who had delivered it to her? Why had they done such a thing? And which lock would it open? There had been no note left for her to explain anything.
It was crucial. More than just important. I needed it for survival. To bad it was locked in a trunk and the key at the bottom of the lake.