Prison

There is a blackness to love. not the inky dark blackness in which you can lose yourself and not be blamed. its the wonderful shades of grey...like a long moonlit corridor with the rays coming in through and lending a glow...which when you pass through make you feel like...here the blackness ends...now i can be happy.
someone i know told me it has to be pain and pleasure...together..never one or the other...
it seems so unfair..when you come to think of it.
why would anyone go through the whole rigmarole of giving and taking, being emotionally drained, getting tossed about and turned from one direction to another....and all this for ..for pain? sleepless nights (such a cliche), the crying, the arguing, the need, the helplessness...the sheer horror of being so completely dependent.
pleasure...is another thing in itself...so many connotations..this innocuous word has.
be it with drugs, sex, and a hundred other kinds of addictions..its always pleasure that is the ultimate goal. a heady feeling...it is.of being loved. perhaps the greatest of addictions.
its a prison.

The bars that you see right in front, but disappear when you touch.
Those that you want to break, but not as much.
They don’t hurt, you say, but then why lay awake at night,
Trying to kill the pain?
Maybe one day, some day it will make sense.
Why ruin it when it has been great?
You run, you hide, you forget, but…
You are still living it.
And once in a awhile if you do get rid of it,
It reaches out to take you back,
Into the same darkness.
No way out because it is the worst of its kind,

It’s the emotional prison.

One that didn’t trap you, snare you, or made an animal out of you,

It just stood there with its hands out to welcome you.