My palms get sweaty.
I wring my hands together.
Breathing is shallow.
You’ve put demons in my belly to play with fire.
They dance the dance I wish I remembered.
All up and down and inside out.
I’m certain I will lose my Love.
It will be sucked out of me.
Given to another reflection of me that others gaze upon with affections as I hide and sulk in the shadows of her.
A distant memory of me.
My whole body quivers at the thought.
Can I look into my reflection’s eyes and see the love I have for myself?
Or will I see those demons dancing around the fire in her iris?
And at the center of the fire, there I am. Tied to a post. A martyr to myself. Burned at the stake for lack of admiration. For heresy unto myself. For abandoning the carriage ride to my future.
I just jumped out. Out of myself. Out of my body. Out of the constraints of womanhood and into the forest of fantasy.
I started to run…all the way back. Until I couldn’t see that carriage anymore.
And then I missed it.
I missed seeing the devils in my reflection.
Freedom is longing. Constraint may one day bring contentment.
I fly between the two. Never knowing my role. Always avoiding my duties. Pretending to play Woman.