like a brand new ink cartridge
you pushed me into your pen
and drew with me
such beautiful lines
and I caressed your pages
with mine.
you used me up,
but not completely,
my colour was never enough.
you wanted more
and yanked me out
without a glance
discarded me on the floor.
i know what burns within those pages, i know the secrets that you hide. i know the pain that follows ages, i know what lurks inside.
a glittering container of crystal and mottled mirrors. an exquisite dome built around me. i spin in circles and you show me how to dance until you drop my hand and smile before walking away. just leave. i - must - get - out. what can i use to smash through? you take me by the hand once more and we dance in circles across the mirrored floor.
THE LONELY WHITE WOLF 