-

Remember,
something that you said,
something along the lines of:
"You are calm and normal
and different.
You are my sanctuary from the craziness of this city.
You play my refuge,
and I am fortunate to have found you.
You are the warmth of the early sun
and the quiet breath of the ivory moon."

And for the first time
I felt my soul then.
I saw beyond my body
and muscles
and bones
and blood.
And I recognized something,
an emotion,
or thought.
Something we all refer to as
soul.

But it was not you who I fell in love with then.
It was I,
the image of me,
the perception of me,
the significance of being something,
the curiosity of being seen as someone,
of having acquired that function
of being an object.
Liberated -
I felt.

But I do not fit your ideas anymore.
I have left the room.
I have gone.
And this silent departure
has wrecked my mind
and broken my pulse.
But I am going,
I am moving,
I am searching
and running
and shouting
and living
and changing.

I do not play the role of the muse
anymore.
I am not looked at,
admired,
anymore.
I do not pose for you
anymore.
I do not smile for you.
I do not play the role.
I do not follow
the script.
I break the line
and scattered I might be,
But I call this state of me
"beating".
And I know you think
I am lost.

But I'd rather be lost,
than easily found.