If I was committed to another,
You would express more interest.
If I told you I was not…
You would want to know why.
And If I lied,
You’d find me more attractive.
If I dared to be honest…
You would become suspicous.
Taking that to represent,
A directness…
In your mind you’d resent.
And that is not what I would present.
Imprisoned.
By something.
The fear of rejection.
Or too close of an inspection.
The smothering of love done by another.
Or the lack of the expression of it.
Wanting to be alone,
After declaring the wish for more space.
And when that is given…
One begins to feel imprisoned,
By doubt.
Or something not figured out!
Something faced…
One wishes to quickly replace.
Or erased to wish back again.
To leave one feeling a need,
Of some kind of belonging that entraps.