you ask for my hands
not knowing that it would require me
to cut them off in order for you to pet
and treasure them as your possession
for you would have me lifeless
but belonging to you anyway.

the places in your phrases where you insert
and violate the word love
turn my heart to foolishness
and my stomach to sickness
because your hypocrisy, the way you reason
with no sound ground beneath your breath
on the fulfillments of your desire,
the escape from your dreaded days,
tricks my helpful heart for moments at a time
into the imprisoned belief that I must
hold the answers to your inflicted misery.

but when your false light passes and I can
see the way your shadow truly falls
it is abundantly clear to my raging sad eyes
that you do not want me to free you
but only to chain myself next to you.