Would you still have me, bare of my pretensions and without the masks I wear? What when I rip open my heart, bare and crude to you, removed of all that’s been for the world to see and left with all that it’s actually been? Would your fingers slip away from mine as the facets of my containment crumble to reveal my ugliness?
And all that you've loved in me is gone in a wisp of a moment, And as my words resign me, will it all be stuck in the oblivion to crawl across a few feet and touch you? To touch you on your forehead and tell you how your dreams are a gilded shade of gold, the same way I've told you so often. When one cold morning, you look through me (oh I so wish!) and find a person so different, so ordinary and mundane that you want to distance, won’t you let a parting bye and a silent minute to our held promises and my lies?
I must say, love, that I fear it all.
And yet, I’m tired of being a captive – others’. My own self. Your captive.