The Keeper of the Key

A door stands open in the dark,

It's edges glowing, faintly warm.

Inside a voice, a tender spark,

Whispers refuge from the storm.

My hands, though trembling, grasp the frame,

Afraid to linger, yet more to leave.

The glow is soft, it calls my name,

It's comfort something I still believe.

Beyond, a world of jagged stone,

Unyielding paths and bitter air.

Here in the light, I'm not alone -

It's heat erases every care.

But the warmth is waning, thin as thread,

The doors embrace begins to fade.

Still, I cling, though my fingers bled,

On promises that glow once made.

The voice grows sharp, it's lullaby cold,

Yet I strain to find the note of before.

It tells me lies, but they still hold,

A siren tethered to this door.

To step away feels like to fall,

To sever roots that bind me whole.

Yet staying here, within these walls,

Burns slow the fabric of my soul.

The key lies heavy in my hand,

A relic forged of fleeing need.

To turn it feels a final stand,

But freedom comes with no decree.

I linger still, the pull remains,

A chain unseen, yet fiercely tight.

Perhaps one day I'll break the reigns,

But tonight, I stay within it's light.