You're the rarest of pieces,
          a limited edition of some
        beautiful puzzle.

Forgive me, my dear,

                   but I'm from a different puzzle...
                   Our pieces can touch,
but never truly fit...

I was born in
chains
with the gavel hanging over my head;
you were born
free,
the ******* children of the dollar bill.

The seasons turn and you fasten the chains around yourself as I slip soundlessly through the bars.

We started on opposite sides of the board.
I look back as you sit in your cell.
Unaware,
while I run beyond the fence to a freedom you will never understand.

I wear my heart on my sleeve,
but that shirt is hanging in my closet gathering dust with
all the other things I have left behind.
The love notes,
kisses for autographs and picturesque photographs
are packed in a box. forgotten, but always in reach.

I am looking through one way glass at the world,
screaming at the top of my lungs,
but no one can hear me
and I try so hard to get their attention...
The attention of those who are never worth it.

One foot stands in the cool breeze of loneliness like the maudlin moonlight of a midnight freedom
while the other stands in hopeful cecity to feel the warmth of lips on my cheek
or a hand lightly clutching mine...

I am stuck between universes,
like the space between dreams and the waking world.
Here I live and here I watch.

...perhaps I'll run into someone, someday...