Photographs keep running, street by street their memory
forges brilliant tributes to years of collecting souls.
Their flickering light has left me speechless
until I walk back into their capturing hole
and face the flood of emotions- of lasting fear.
Bells and squeals haunt my shadow
as fingers squeeze the heat from my veins,
trying to form the toy and string I once was.
Unable to meet your gaze, I let you control me.
And you used me in your various sheets,
curtains and ribbons that flattered my figure,
leaving me wondering when I would speak
On my own.
You tell me-
when to separate my lungs
when to scream the need to breathe
when to set out my heart for its take off.
