You will one day find yourself
entrapped in a rope of syllables.
Each letter digging into your bones
claiming you as theirs.
You will someday fall into an endless sleep
listening to melodious phrases
too sweet for your taste.
Your body, paralyzed and lying
on a mattress of painted words ever-changing.
Your twists and turns will only wrap
my blankets of rhymes and rhythms closer
to your heart.
You are a victim,
a hypnotized accomplice of my poetic injustice,
a beauty cursed with my enchantment.
You are a tightrope walker weighing heart and mind as
you cross the line.
And if Fate was a sadist she will make you love me.
I will keep you in my menagerie of thoughts and dreams.
Keep still. Don’t move a muscle.
Like quicksand my art will pass you by unharmed.
Keep your heart intact at all times
as my syllables unwind.
Like a circus my musings will distract you for a day
and desert you by night.
This is how you leave…
This is how you escape my poetry…
If Fate was righteous.