I'm stuck, and I can't get out of this glass box I've put myself in.
My destination is so clear, yet the steps I take lead me no where.
I can see, but I can't touch.
I can move, but I can't step forward.
Always in the same place, no matter how much time passes.
I am still, in an ever moving moment.
And I am scared.
Because in this glass box I am safe.
I do not move so I do not change.
Nothing can touch me when I am out of touch with the World.
For in my own Space,
my own Universe,
my own World,
I am both rich and poor, Ruler and subject.
I make my own Laws and I break them.
I see all, yet, I don't see nearly enough.
I can fly, but only so high,
and for this reason I am free within my own prison.
A prison I can shatter with a pin, but can't even crack with a hammer.
A prison that if I so choose, can unlock, with a single key.
A key, I've had in the palm of my hand, since it's creation.
And yet, I still stand in this glass box,
waiting,
  hoping,
that someone will come save me,
because I can't seem to save myself...
yet.

Our biggest shame is allowing our pain to live so loud in silence

Her fingers trail my arm with cold calculation,

her laughter as sweet as the deadliest sin.

She looks into my eyes with nothing but determination,

bites my lip and gives a sigh.

She takes what she wants without hesitation,

weaving her magic into the air.

At last I am told that my time is over,

she ***** my soul out without a care.

Sweet scents, on a drifting wind of nothing but dreams.

                                                        ­         Swift motions, of a strong current flowing through your soul.

                                  Grazing fingers, breaking skin with a fiery touch.

    Soft moans, whispering silent promises throughout the night.

                                                         ­                            Leaving only pleasure in the Weeping Willow of our love.