I know her name
like she is the air I breathe
the stardust in my veins
the wonder in my eyes.

There is beauty in potential.
Fleeting moments of desires
to be freer than I am
come stronger and faster
when captivity has been for this long.
The potential to be free
will always appeal to me
more
than freedom itself.

Her frizzy hair
was simply
an invisble halo
being wrapped
in strands of gold.

I really miss her,
the woman who knew
her place:
on top of the throne.

There is something so forbidden about women
that just makes me want them more.

The memories
of late October
torment me
like trick or treaters
begging
for more candy.

Freedom
is the feeling you get
when you breathe your first breath
and your ribs
no longer
press into
the floor.