the mystery

you can't connect
all the dots
as hard as you try.
not everything
makes sense.
the broken hearts,
the broken
locks, the lost key,
the spilled
milk, or dents
in the car.
no one seems to
owe you
an answer why.
no rhyme, no reason.
no clarity
from above,
it's a mystery they
like to tell you,
you'll never
understand
until later,
but what good will
that do you now,
as you stand
outside the door,
locked out, wondering
what exactly
is later.