It's guilt. Maybe, it's pity.
It's a shame when you love someone like that.
Out of courtesy though out of line,
as you think you owed it to them at one time.

You can't say the words.
You can't even whisper some.
In fear you might hurt
he, whose heart is in line.
You ended up keeping it all.
Ignoring that you're already lost  the heart you own.

You think you're saving yourself but you're really not.
You know you're digging deep for yourself to rot.

It's been so long since the last entree
I've been stuck, lost my scribbled sheets
my mind is empty but fully chaotic
of words unsaid, unwritten, undone.

Can someone reach out?
I'm drowning, falling deep
I'd like to be saved,
I'd like to be spared,
kept safe in the midst of crowded lies.

My soul is caged,
locked down by frozen dreams,
******* by unfinished poems,
tortured by crumpled music notes.

I want to be free;
where my pen can write the words,
where my lips can speak rhymes,
where my heart can finalize songs.

When I write, my feelings are bare
Showing skin and colors
Stripping naked like the breezy autumn air.

When I write, I'm torn between a lot of things
Just like the innocence of a child being corrupted and tainted by what the world brings.

When I write, I feel like a warrior equipped for war
And the armor I have are pen and paper.

When I write, it feels refreshing
Just like the break of the dawn, full of hope and sun rays gleaming.

When I write, I feel closer to you in every turn
My words are full of passion and never afraid of getting burned.

I feel numb.
I can't feel anything.
A poke from a needle, a cut from a knife
Even a hole from a broken glass and all the sharp things in life

It all started when I pricked my finger from a needle of a spinning wheel
Or was it when I took a bite from a poisonous apple?
Maybe from the moment I exchanged by voice for something dumb
Or was it when I chose to give up my freedom because of a rose?
Perhaps when I broke my glass slipper and did nothing
Or was it when I rubbed that fake genie lamp?
Perhaps when I laid down my hair for someone to climb
or was it when I aimed my arrow at a torn tapestry?
It could be when I kissed the wrong frog thinking it was a prince
Or was it when I tried to be someone else to hide the real me?

Alas! Indeed, I almost forgot.
That it was when I handed you my fragile heart.