I knew it wasn’t for me
This union before the fire
My mind I kept safe within the recesses to keep
From drowning in the quagmire.
I knew it wasn’t for me,
But for my blood,
I held my tongue.
He treated me kindly enough
Although with a slight exasperation
I held myself from him;
It wasn’t to his expectation
More than the walls around me
Holding my body
I felt the thin band on my finger
Holding
Smothering my soul
I knew it wasn’t for me
This caging of my own
But for my blood
I held my tongue
I was free enough, to move outside my house
But I wasn’t free
To not have to come back to the same bed
Everyday
The same pockmarked mirror on the same faded walls
The same dusty shelves with books unopened
The same,
the same
Every morning I woke
I slept in this house ate, worked in this house
Beside the man who gave me his name
I lived here
But it wasn’t my home
I never found my home.
This life of constraint
Wasn’t for me
I yearned to roll with the wind
But I look at the people
Depending on me
And I hold my tongue.
