I feel an awful lot like I’m a rough draft, a
work in the making
Left upon his mahogany desk
far away
There’s a polished-up version of me, somewhere—
Somewhere awfully far away.
The crisp edges of her unrumpled surface
are dancing, as
eyes devour her every word.

As we stared down at my bed,
the unrumpled sheets military made
awful thoughts ran though my head
and refused to fade away.
We took off each other's clothes,
my hands shaking like leaves
and right before he laid me down I froze
"I don't think I can do it," I breathed.
And that's when he pulled me in close,
our bodies throbbing with heat,
and that's when I realized I loved him the most,
that he was the one that made me complete.
And as he gently lowered me onto the sheets
the fears I had felt began to retreat...

Eh! You, yes, you!
I've got questions to ask. What can you do for freedom?
What do you call loneliness?

When no one cuddles you and wakes you up in the morning,
No gentle kiss on the forehead,
No shared leftovers,
Is it loneliness or freedom?

The silence is spreading.
A dropped pin echoes through the room.
Fear intrudes on your mind at night.
No one to hold, no one to soothe.

Words are too heavy for the heart to carry.
But there's no one to listen.
The coffee mug remains untouched.
The cookie was unbreakable and unshared.

Is it loneliness or freedom?
The bed remains unrumpled.
The sofa stares back, empty and new brand.
A lottery win, a bottle of wine,
But there is no one to celebrate with.

The daily routine repeats,
solitary existence.
Just you and your mind
Is this freedom, or am I lonely?

Laughter echoes, a haunting sound.
Perhaps I need a pet, not a human body.

#Marixbell
#notapoet