You are big
And I am small
You have all the power
I have no control at all

I see you raise your hand
And it comes crashing down
It is hard to put on a smile
The only thing you will see is my frown

I still feel the sting across my face
When you wave your belt at me
It sends a painful shudder down my back
And you don't hear my plea

I don't know what I did
All I can do is ask why
I am in fear fo my life
Do you like it when I cry

Do you feel strong
Is this my lot
Did I do something
Is it my fault

Please stop the pain
My life I do worry
I don't want to hurt
I am sorry

I loved you
Though it is not the same
I wish I can leave
I don't want to play this game

It isn't fun
I have the worse luck
I wish I was done
But I am stuck

A bird in an iron, unlatched cage can rattle around
flying to each corner, nook, and cranny and fall to the platform.
It lacks the ability to understand, that the door can be opened
and that there is indeed a life outwards that it has yet to know
It is taunted relentlessly until it has used up every pent of energy it ever knew it had because ****, it gave up after so many attempts to diverge those iron bars that were just too small for its own good like tectonic plates that had yet to move..
It only knew of what it was told and what it was taught and that the way it is living is the normal way
...But it isn't...
Because what does a helpless bird know
when it does not even know life outside the iron cage,
with an unlatched door...

I gaze at him from across a sea of bowed heads.
The steady, calming voice of prayer echoing off
stained glass windows, which bring in a soft rainbowy light.
The lighting is soft, intimate,
but this distance between this man and I is not.
He is too far away.
This distance, an alluring mystery
...but also a heartbroken torture.
I long to touch this man I do not know.

Who is he?
Broad shouldered, mischievous grin, with
warm eyes that melt like caramel,
I wish I could look into them, if only for a second,
just to see what kind of soul resides within this handsome man.
For my mother always did tell me: "eyes are the windows to the soul".
I wish I could run my fingers through his hair,
which is dark, like his humor. Or so I've heard.

He walks my way, maneuvering the clusters of people expertly.
He is dressed up, snazzy like always...
as he walks by, his eyes catch mine
and his mouth quirks up
at the corner. He winks at me,
leaving me praying for the ability to breathe right.

Oh, how I long to know this man,
and kiss this man, and hold this man,
and lay in his bed in the depths of night.
His fingers entangling in mine like fresh-water kelp,
his lips my savior from drowning in the loneliness.  
Nothing else but the cricket's chirp,
moonlight's gleam, and sheet's rustle,
and the comforting warmth of his body next to mine.
I allow myself the pleasure of basking in such a bliss.

Until a blurry sun bubbles up from the horizon,
and I wake
to a pair of curious eyes drinking me in.

I wouldn't mind getting drunk off of him. No,
I would not mind one bit.

Maybe this is just a dream...
somebody pinch me so I know this is real
and not just some fantasy.

Reality pulls me back into the chasm of the church,
and as he is preparing to exit, he looks back
and we share another glance,
s t r e t c h i n g across the pews,
a lingering,
sparkling,
moment.
Searching for the cause for such curiosity
in each other's eyes.
Trying to make sense of it, I tilt my head down,
allowing myself a moment of thought.
My head snaps up, courage pulsing through my veins,
like I have just been cleansed, I feel refreshed.
I start making my way towards the doors to ask him his name,
but to my disappointment...
he is gone.

This mysterious, entrancing man has walked out.
The brightness of a rising run enveloping him,
leaving me with a mouthful of unsaid words
and a mind full of scattered imaginations.

I kneel down before God,
and pray for forgiveness
for lusting after a stranger I know nothing about
while in His presence.

And with that, shaken to my core,
I put on my mask that conceals my deepest emotions,
and go about my day like nothing ever happened.

)
       o    (              (             (                  
O   )     (                      )        
            )                (      o
    (              (      (                       O  
   )     o              )   O       )        o
(    O              (     o      (         ) 
)    o                              )    (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•