Sometimes it doesn't feel like me
What I'm living in is foreign
What I want versus what I need
In a way it feels distorted

I was use to deprivation
In a way it was my pride
I didn't need or wanted as much
Even now I still don't mind

Overwhelmed with newfound freedom
I am free. Still, I am lost
I'm no longer trapped or controlled
But that was all I was ever taught

I was raised by maps and manuals
Now you give me a pen to write my own
Opening various paths around me
Paralyzed in anxiety to take even one alone

If recovery meant burning all of my maps
And rewriting all of my manuals
Letting go of strict rules and superior words
To be mortal than something mechanical

I never really had a dream
I always had a goal
Until I met her, it seems
I had one hidden in my soul
I wanted a lavish life
To make up for what I lack
To live out as someone else
Indulge and never look back
Then I met her
Who dreams more than she knows
She is lively, innocent and bright
Inspiring wherever she goes
Her dream is so pure
Nothing to really be gained
She only wanted to see and know
Why those floating stars came
I realized dreams could change
I have found a new dream
To be with her amongst the lanterns
Every year so it seems

To what does the world owe to her beauty?
A beauty no one has ever seen.
Locked behind a door, a barrier of sort,
But not to keep the world at bay.

She speaks to me through concrete and wood,
Curiosity growing fonder by the day.
Her voice echoes off the empty manor
To which my ears captures
And my mind constructs an image of her.
I can only assume she does the same of me.

I sit of hours in that sturdy chair outside her chamber,
Engaging in conversations we’ve never had before.
With each spoken word we unravel more layers of ourselves,
Layers we both feared of discovering.

I mustered up the courage to reveal feelings,
Feelings that quickly became a bouquet of clumsy words.
She laughs at my blunder
But not in mockery.

I place my hand on the wall.
I hear her footsteps grow closer.
I imagine her putting her hand up as well.
The closest I will get to feeling her touch.

My Rapunzel won’t let down her hair
But granted me access to her tower.
Frustration tells me to abandon this endeavor,
Yet hope yearns to see it through.

I return to that sturdy chair once more
To continue our routine as always.
My ears prepare to capture her voice again
Hoping to be greeted with the sound of a door creak.
The bedroom light sneaks from under the door
Accompanied by a woman’s fragrance.

I long to see the face she hides.
I long touch the skin she protects.
I long to break down the wall between us.