Love Is Gold

Love is gold, because it’s used to buy someone.
They give you love, so they think you’re theirs,
to cut and shape and make in their image,
like a sculptor at his marble block, cutting away
until what is seen pleases him.
 They take things I cherish away from me,
and tell me what I must and must not be.
They tell me this and this will or will not do.
And when you cry, saying I don’t want this,
they claim ownership “Because I love you.”
 And so, alone in my own room, behind locked door,
I pull out all those things, all those wonder they casted away,
and let myself be the dream I tried to become.
Because I cannot stand to be left alone or left behind,
I can only salvage my wings when I’m alone in the dark.
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