She loves control.
At least that’s what she tells herself
laying in bed at night alone.
In reality she loves being able to hold all of the cards
and not having to give up a single one
only to have it returned bent or torn.

She’s figured out a way to be kind, and caring
without truly letting anyone in,
and without having to sacrifice her already fragile mental state.
Instead of brick walls shielding her from everyone,
she stands behind prison bars.
People can see her,
but they can’t get in.

while this may have been a safe haven
it quickly turned sour.
Like Icarus,
drunk on power
and too close to the sun,
what was once a place to heal
Quickly turned into a place that kept her isolated from everyone.

While she thought she loved control
She realized she loved invulnerability.
The lack of vulnerability kept her in isolation
and in this cell of loneliness
all she longed for was a love to call her own.
Trapped in an ongoing circle
of fear,
isolation,
vulnerability,
and pain,
she couldn’t find out
how to work love or companionship into the equation.

Having been burned to many times
and plummeting back down to earth
she feared the wax wings
that would allow her to soar.
She wasn’t afraid of falling,
she was afraid of the impact;
the pain that comes with love.

Poor Cupid,
with all of his arrows destined to pierce her skin
only to be ricocheted off of the metal bars surrounding her heart.
Her hope lay in an imaginative figure
smart enough to break the lock
or find his way through the bars
as she couldn’t see herself
finding a way out anymore.

She longs for skin touching skin
both ****** and freeing
as well as comforting and warm.
She longs for intimacy and freedom,
while maintaining independence and a sense of self.
She wants the courage it takes to be vulnerable,
because she is scared to be lonely,
and even more scared to be “his”.