Pangs of what was barely left of me

Reaching for a sword I swore was left

Yet no weapon was there.

Stranded on a bed of nails

Sat on the shore for hours

Whispering everything he ever said to me In every language I knew

Even Hebrew.

I closed my eyes for a moment

Remembered a dance he took me to

I wore a large pink dress

Showing cleavage enough to keep him interested

I could still feel his hand on my waist

As he twirled me around the room.

Thought at the time we were like two mirrors

Facing one another

And every time he twirled me around

I could see us in these huge mirrors on the wall

And thought it would be like this forever.

Then I remembered

He never danced with me at all.

A momentary glance at reality

Leaves me starkly alone

Bitterly un-anxious

And distasteful.

Instead of looking at love as setting you free

I look at it as keeping you prisoner.

Instead of looking at lust as a beautiful emotion

I look it as a fleeting temporary one, at best.

Falling, to me, has a much different meaning

Than it does to those that have fallen into it gracefully.

In stark contrast to my dreams

My reality Is boring



What you require

What you toy with

What you desire Is not my flesh

Not my beautiful broken self..

You want my dreams.

You could care less about my reality.   jjon_00031