After Seven Years

[QDeathstar]

She hears him lift another can,
pour the beer into a tall glass
as sure as her key slips into a lock. this line seems strange to me. Her key; a lock. The significance of the lock is diminished, or am i missing something

She dislikes this plastic paradise
of comb and mirror, the thickening
scars, the courted sleep. sounds sterile to me

Arguments are all her mind recalls lately:
the fists, the remedy afterward. She does is this the what the mind remembers vs what the heart remembers?
remember an August marriage, his dark
good looks. And now sitting beside this bed
of snow, the room is a jail cell. Outside
her window, on a thin black telephone wire,
is a mourning dove with her mother's eyes.