your eyes have been opened
to the others around you
and all you want is to be with them
all of them
all of the time.
but you can't
because there is one
more perfect and more beautiful
than all the others
and you can't fuck this up
anymore.
painters with reds and blacks
paint what you feel onto your skin
and you know everyone can see
you just want to hold
and be held
you just want words passed between lips
hands to hands
and eyes connected by brown, imaginary strings
and the heavy lock holding you down
allows none of this
and you would tear off part of you
just to break free
because it meant something even better.
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