There’s no real escape
just an illusionary door
in a tangled maze
of dead ends.
And I am here,
still here,
in your cul de sac
of love.

I feed on denial,
I breathe pretence,
I cannot take this
anymore.

I see them swarm
with their suspicions,
with their all-knowing stares.
‘We just want what’s best for you’,
they say,
fingers crossed.
But they don’t know,
they’ll never know
for where I see white
there’s black.

In my mind is a corner
where I imagine I’m free;
no cages, no bars,
no heart-shaped padlock.
Am I strong enough
to endure the
torture,
to make it there?
Can I even physically say
‘goodbye’?

Again.

There’s rust around
your iron assurance
but you know I’m too weak
to try the exits.
Maybe.
Maybe not.