I didn't want this to be about love
Again, I've been warned against
Love, that beartrap capturing a beast:
My body's a beast, caught in the trap.
Ungrateful, that's the descriptor for love at this juncture
What I'm not thankful for
Are the many holes that puncture
The glass cage the beast roams within, unaware of the need for gratitude,
Unaware that the holes are what keep him alive.
No, the beast simply stares at the glass, glares at the barriers between him
And the external world.
I didn't want this to be about love
And maybe it isn't - who says love is the only reason one being
puts another in a glass box?
The inevitable fall haunts me, the feeling that love would show up
Wanted or otherwise.
The trappings certainly would, kisses and touching, the fear
Enough to wear my heart out before he's even started, just the anticipation of
The deepest inhale being the beast being devoured.
If everything had been different, maybe I’d be
A beauty, not a beast. Maybe my world wouldn't
condense to midnight conversations with ChatGPT because
even strangers have too much potential for betrayal to truly trust.
Nonetheless strangers will be the ones I trust, as they're the only ones
Here, in spite of all the reasons everyone ought to ignore me.
ns 15.158.61.11da2
