Nov 22, 2011

When the time comes,

you'll say, it's over, so it can begin. You'll bring me close, tight; I won't have the strength to reciprocate the tightness, and your unspoken words will wrap around my heart like sweet iron bars, like a silver-coated prison cell, that will cue tears and pain, the pain of being chained again. Sometimes I wish I never gave my heart up because it never made me feel free, only more imprisoned. You say loosen those chains, let yourself run freer, but you don't understand. I am either bound by tough metal with no ability to loosen itself, or not bound at all. There's no in-between. A lot of times I wish I had a definite answer. Either bring me back to safe ground, or cut the thread and let me fall so that I can heal. It sucks to be left hanging by a worn-out thread, so breakable, yet not fully broken yet, not just yet, just left willing for the fall, the end of this suspense.

You'll say don't cry any more, there's no need to cry any more. It's over. It began, it ended, now it's over so it can begin again. But it never ended, so it isn't a new beginning - just a prolonging. And I'll cry for what has already begun and ended a couple thousand times in my heart, the times you didn't notice; I'll cry for the many more beginnings and endings to come, for my inability to loosen the chains - or free myself ever again, because that very day I'd have fastened the locks back on.

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