LYN BYN + ME

I sleep with a lock on my heart.

Finish this poem, Marilyn.
Finish it when you no longer pretend, to feel safe.
I feel hurt.
The only other places where I am worth, is with you.
Not my home.
Only you.
Skin and bones.
Not a structured place.
No wood, no nails.
The only heaven I see, is one where we are concealed.
Safe.
Blocked off.
Out of sight.
Completely inclined.
Only our hearts, to keep us ahead.
Maybe then, I'll discover that pretending only brings a sad ending.