home is my prison, beating heart trapped within these four walls.
whole life spent in affirmation of having seen beauty, but how? i can’t even see beyond the metal bars of this cage. trapped in an illusion of golden locks and impurity of pure white snow.
yes, this is convention.
i didn’t need anyone’s help to lace me into this corset. i didn’t make you wait to take me to the ball. no carriages will carry me in this world.
there’s always time, —-
that’s what you say, calling me by my name, every syllable grounding me further into this quicksand. truth is, there isn’t time. all there is is this yearning need to –cease. then, colours stop swirling and coloured lights hush with their bright song of desire.
i am a fire.
i burn in this empty shell. you know it well. and i flash instead of them coloured lights, where every day is christmas, where sun burns red with passion of one’s life.
kiss me now.
tomorrow it will be too late.
tomorrow we will celebrate.