Yes, I broke your favorite glass. I did not mean to, but my hands are large and clumsy, much like the rest of me. I will clean it up, and I'm sorry you came home to this.
Tell me.
Command me.
Scream at me.
You think I cannot understand, but I only want you to say more. Your words reflect on your heart and you speak it freely, because you believe that you are alone. Are you not? Will you be angry when I tell you that I love you? Will you hurt me?
I love your touch, even if you will make it harsh. I cannot believe that you are so blind to me. I was not always as I am. I will not always be what I appear. I will change with the ebb and flow of the gentle beating of my heart. What enters into one chamber will all too soon be pushed from another, sent racing through all of me. When I can gleen no more of the desperate love I live for, it will leave me, traveling back through my veins, and I will exhale and draw in my next breath.
You torment me in every way that you exist, and because I can look so closely upon your face I will never be allowed to touch it. Because I see your eyes move when you sleep, and watch your quiet ignorance that I am here, you will never wake. Could I gently nudge your shoulder to see your aggrivated eyes peer confused at me? You roll over and fall back to your dreams because you don't understand my intention.
The sun rises so slowly, painting everything to match my features, but you will not see it. You will rise late, when the dying colors have already decayed into the horizon. I know this because I see it happen everyday and wait for the sunrise I will bloom in.
...Begin