Oh pray, tell me so:
Am I nothing but your cut flower on show?
Or perhaps you keep me in a tinted glass jar,
Thinking I won’t see your jests from afar.
I am not your rose to keep;
To cast aside and to clip.
Neither for your lone attention;
To mention and to stow.
How I now wallow in wilt,
My petals no longer as bright.
Release me from your glass cages —
It creates an illusion only to my eyes —
For I am neither rose nor flower to you,
But a mere object for you to safekeep
A secret affair you keep to possess;
Then neither gay nor in love we both shall be
To know whether a man loves you, look to how he treats whom he calls his friends and how he treats you. His show of private love only further proves his cowardice, for love knows no cage — it deserves to roam wild.
” I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name. ” – Mouthful of Forevers, Clementine von Radics