We may share tiny breaths
Passed back and forth in the small hours of morning
the room is still dark and
I grab his fingers when hear a noise outside.
But this doesn't mean he steals my voice
keeps it hidden in his mouth while
using mine to voice what his brain is thinking.
He may cook me "the greatest" chicken parm ever created
but that doesn't mean he wipes my tastes bud clean,
buying me flowers that he tells me I like
while the stench from pink roses crawl up my nose,
wrap chains around my brain, captivated.
You need to understand,
each smile is not a lock tying me to him
and each day is not spent, falling deeper into his void
where I can not find myself.
Because he knows me better then I do
and he spend each day, feeding me delicate hints at the person
I have yet to become, one lock (picked apart)
after another. For he sees me with open eyes
and doesn't turn away.