the man behind the curtain
that decided my worth

took his turns deciding whether or not
he felt like pretending to care about me

he oftentimes played the role of god-
and everyone owed him a favour

he wanted the rush
he inhaled from parkour on the week's end

and the kind of romance
he devoured in science fiction novels

i was too afraid to get off of my knees
and to not address him like royalty

but i let him file me down
into a perfect wife

knees on the ground,
my head stayed bowed

obedient like a puppy
scared out of it's wits

eventually i unlocked the door at the top of the cell

just to find him sitting there,
lit cigar (elegant this time)
and a novel
while he watched my mind absorb the smoke