Who am I to refuse you?
Who am I to even try to contain you?
In my labeled boxes, and dusty corners
trying to contain you, in all your splendor.
You cry out to me "child, let me in!"
But do I listen?
No.
It's so very easy for me to get wrapped up in the world.
To get tangled in it's web of lies, telling me all the things I so desperately want to hear.
I'm so selfish.
To think you could love me even when I am constantly turning you out in the cold.
"I'll talk to you later, I'm busy right now" has crossed my mind more times than I'd like to admit.
It's so easy for me to forget how wonderful my quiet times are, to push those into a different compartment of my mind.
To push them away, until the time is right.
To block out your words, your whispers, your commands.
To let my self get wrapped up in the world's demands.
To be pretty, sexy, and cunning.
To look older, skinnier, stunning.
But that's not what you desire.
No.
For you are not of this world. You are something far greater than I can even imagine.
I give you my mangled, bloody heart. Take it, and do what you can with it.
My life is yours.
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