trapped
She is trapped.
(That’s the first impression you get.)
She looks lonely, too.
Paper thin and hollowed out, like she’s on strings,
like without them she might sink down into the Earth.
Her eyes, though - your own.
Pleading,
but you feel none of the agony that you see in her.
Be careful. She’s lethal.
She’ll caress your hair like a mother’s lullaby until she thinks you’re asleep
then she’ll wrap her fingers around the trust you have mistakenly given her
and she will drag you by the skin into the cage that she has built for herself.
And you have not known what it means to be trapped
until you feel the cold take hold of your very bones
and turn your blood to dry ice,
you will not know what it means to be trapped
until your limbs only move with hers
and her wolfish smile bares your teeth,
and her eyes are lit with ecstacy
while yours are brimming with defeat --
because it hurts.
This is what you have become, this is what she has done to you,
and it hurts.
(That’s the last impression you get.)
You are trapped.