I undid the wrapping
the shell has been shucked
I stand as I am
no lies cover me up.

I wait for retribution
but I am free.
The one who would bind,
it was only she.

The one who held me back,
Was it just me?
I wait as myself.
There is nothing to see.

I held, and was held back
I stopped myself from being free.

I have to admit that as of late I have been in want of things,
Not just superfluous items I’ll use once or twice.
The things that I want of are beyond me even.
Not trinkets or baubles or anything really.
Its unbearable this longing, not really knowing, exactly.
What am I wanting?

I want to be wanted,
To be missed
I want to feel the sun on my face,
To live without fear of living to much!
I want to dance in the rain,
To love without doubt.
I want to taste the air!
To fear no man,

I want to read every book there is,
To give courage to those afraid to want and dream,
and smile.

These things I want one can give me....
I search for them
However I never seem to be able to hold on
to the rush of the things that I want.
I think if I only found someone to want them with me,
to search and reach and help me,
Then I could keep those things.
I could want all I want.
I would try.
Try hard to keep what it is that I want.
I guess I could say I know what I’m wanting.
I'm only in want of your love.

He is the moonshine, I the flowered path.
He comes and goes as he sees fit,
while I am set in stone.
He waxes and wanes,
I stay much the same.

I wait for the moon every night,
my path wears down as he is blocked by the trees.
Perhaps he visits the pond or the field.
The moon longer sees me.
Does he miss the nights we shared?

They walk my path less often now,
the ones who loved me before.
made tense by the once beautiful mist,
now dreary and waiting and wanting.

He peaks through the branches now and then
to see if I wait there,
if I care.

The moon made me beautiful.
Lit the shadows,
gave depth to these blossoms now withering.
Now the moon seems gone to me. Lost.
Yet I still wait.

My purpose is slowly drifting away,
becoming the path less taken.
Through daylight I bask in the sun,
and forsake him who has forsaken.
But when darkness drifts I remember the moon
and how much it is I still love him.