In the cage of us

I want to be with you every second of every day.

Maybe that sounds like too much,

But to me, it will never be enough.

You ignite every fiber of my being,

Fireworks bursting into color,

Exploding into light,

Filling every corner of me.

But when you're gone, I feel hollow.

The darkness creeps in—

It swallows me whole.

And I stand there, waiting.

Waiting.

For the hours to slip away

Until I see you again.

So I sleep.

Maybe—just maybe—time will move faster.

Maybe I'll wake up

And feel your hand in mine,

Warm, steady, real.

But those moments with you?

They disappear too quickly.

A blink, a breath, a fleeting second.

I want to beg, Stay with me.

But instead, I whisper, Farewell until next time.

And I sleep.

Waiting for the day you'll return.

But this time,

The darkness doesn't wait.

It pulls me under, drags me down.

I claw at the earth above,

Fingers digging into nothing,

And I try—

I try so hard to break free.

But I can't.

So I let go.

I let it take me.

A prisoner—my wings clipped, my claws dulled,

Locked in a cage I can't escape.

Once a week, they open the door.

For a few precious hours, I'm free.

With you.

And when you leave,

The door slams shut.

I'm back in my cage.

But I've grown used to it.

I tell myself I should be afraid.

I should fight.

I should scream.

But I don't.

Not anymore.