Hanging by Illusions

Somewhere deep beneath the ancient,
hidden ruins of my mind,
in an untapped jungle abyss.
I'm hanging on your words like a noose,
swaying back and forth in perpetual dismay,
air cut from my lungs like razors to flesh
and I'm breathless, lifeless.
Your words, like paralysis, conquer me
and I can't muster speech.
I can't muster movement.
So I hang.

His eyes glow with radiance unknown,
a searing clear; in that glassy reflection,
I can't see myself.
It's like staring into two gaping windows,
peering into a world so pure, so lustrous.
I want so badly to spring into this world
of infinite greens, crystal waters, beautiful scenes,
a never ending void to sit down beside
untouched rivers to cleanse my ravaged mind,
sprawling mountains, teeming with untraveled caverns,
perfect to hide my bleeding soul,
deep behind the timeless protection,
dislodged from reality.

I wanted more than anything to dive into his eyes,
lose myself and the pain for just one last time.

I'm a woman hanging.
Taunted by dreams and haunted by illusions,
living in a world of mirrors,
screaming at my reflections
of what can never be.
So with sad eyes, I carried on,
through this maze of ambiguity
and out into the world I wish I'd never known.