While I am in your hold,
you wrap me up in your dreams,
each shroud of your hopes
tightly against me,
your dreams absorb into my skin.
Your Vicodin voice
numbs me during the transformation.
You tell me how beautiful
I have become.
When you release me,
drenched in your dreams,
metamorphosed into your wants,
will I have your preferred set of flaws?
If so, then for how long?
I can’t keep changing for you.
At some point,
I’ll just drown in
one of your selfish cocoons.
You’ll find me
drenched in dreams
that have spoiled into nightmares,
in a casket of hopes.
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