TWISTED

Irony takes the lead in the narrative,
The submissive confronts the free bird and triumphs.
If you find beauty in the brick walls that suffocate you…
Would it be tragically wonderful or wonderfully tragic?

I desire to fly, but the ropes of fear have tied me to the pit.
Perhaps you define fear for me,
Sucking the fortitude out of me with your kisses.
Should I love you or abhor you?
Lovingly hugging me to cut my wings.

I desire to escape, but these boundaries have started to mesmerize me.
Perhaps you define beauty for me,
Concealing the ecstatic world beyond.
Should I call you my captor or my protector?
Shielding me by caging me in.

How twisted am I to let this go on?
You thrust your hand into my chest and I snuggle closer.
How twisted are you to let this go on?
Squeezing my heart to fit into your fist.
I suppose love, ah love, is the answer to all.
The broken bones, bruises on my cheek.
My scar, perhaps, is the lovely mark of your passion.
Shall I cover it up or flaunt it for my wretched love?

It’s cruel how you find darkness within light, light within darkness.
Love comes in million forms, some of them despicable.

Can you heal my wings, please?
I’d like to fly back to sanity
I’ve been stranded for far too long.

Can you talk to God, please?
I prayed for a love that consumed me.
He took me too literally.

-Roselina Roby