oh my duplicitous Pygmalion!

while you were sleeping,

i was years away…

… trapped,

as you would say –

contained within my pre-assembled tomb of ambiguity.

but there is where i find –

i,

my – me…

and while you walk in circles

around my truth,

expecting walls of nonchalance to crumble,

i smile –

free of your contagious animosity…

how simply –

archaic!

your words,

so fervent in their request to be my savior –

however,

your eyes do not invite –

and your clinched fists can never hold these trembling hands…

i long to be the – oh –

the – wow –

exhilarating gasp of – awe,

in an otherwise quiet room!

to be that –

suspect,

that –

even remotely – considered.

to be –

consumed –

as breath –

entering in –

and back out again.

unassuming,

yet essential –

inasmuch as believe,

to dream…

you are that –

Deity –

on which i hang

(effortlessly)

my hope.

demagogue to champion compassion.

and i –

your willing martyr!