MissTwist

I am tired of living in a world where my value is written in my use. Where my silence, my steadfastness, my loyalty is everything you want... Until it gives way to tears, and anger and grief. Until I become a tide, uncontrollable. I am tired of writing words, on paper, on screen, That blur and run through tears shed, In solitary confinement of a cage, Of this home. I am tired of I love you, but… I am tired of I want you, but only on my terms. I am so fucking sick of being looked at and never goddamned seen. And I am hollowed,   and I am emptied. So broken that I do not know where to begin to gather the pieces. And I am full to

Touch me, hold me, grace me, With your presence and admiration. Love me softly, wholly, wantonly, Then put me back on the shelf. Up high, down for special occasions, Like a child's fine china doll. Pretty to play with for a while, then away it goes. Valued, yet valueless, in the face of brighter things. Wanted, but only so much. There are always brighter things.