Evocation

A poem I wrote leaving open to interpretation.

My life, imperfect, an enigma at best,
A lock untried, though the only key
Dangles from mischievous fingers,
Mayhap returned by an inquisitive osculation?
I try to forget that well-hidden seam,
But touch, like a divine imprecation, finds harmony unspoken-
And for want of meaning, words elude me.