You do not own me.
I should have said that way before.
I should’ve said that at your first utterance
of a promise. A promise I should not have called
a promise—the ledgers attest to a payment
of kisses, kisses and tears.
I do not owe you anything.
I should have said that before you forced me
to capitulate, before you took me in your arms
and mapped the terrain of my body with your hands,
before you claimed my nights, my days, my secrets—
my life. The tragedy of this age—people go about
thinking they can buy, that they can own
The principle they call equivalent exchange
but is never really equivalent
because you took more from me
than I took from you
when we kissed.
Why is it that
we have gone from being people
to being only things
of relative worth?
A heart is nothing
but a beating apparatus
inside our chests, indicating life or death.
Our hands are nothing
but mere accessories to the machines
we have turned into as we work
day in, day out.
are but the doors of breath
with which we seal
a dateless bargain to engrossing death.*
Why is it a bargain?
Why can’t it be love that gives and takes
with no regard to giving and taking
why must you call me,
my dear, my love,
*lines lifted from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet