Please...
I entreat you...
I implore....
Don't make this any harder, don't struggle, don't fight...
You said.
Please...
I must....
Let go....
Don't pin my bought wings to this 10
cent felt with your hopes, don't allow my freedom to flutter to extinction from the
formaldehyde of your expectations, don't case me in your
shadow box in proper form, when I am so adamant that I am only my own.
Because...
I sense your thirst
And how you think to consume me
How your life requires the sustenance of mine, because I am vital and resplendant from the
nectar of lovers dreams, upon which I imbibe. I smell your lust for those moments in which your delight is designed by the elements of myself, beyond my control to perceive or alter, or create, which you have called beautiful and because you have, you have also called them yours. You would tame my independence, you would
snuff me out, you would admire the shadow of what I could have been
and I would be
safe,
and I would be yours
and I would be dead.