You chose the space
to make your stand,
suited in your armour
of steely determination.
A room full
of pleasing pieces and textures,
and sheets waiting crisp and white.
The city lights
will twinkle through the glass
to remind you
you are still a part of this world…
…”that girl standing in the window”.
All is comfortable and calm…
enough to make you stay,
or keep you from leaving.
And there you will free your beast.
He leaps from the page
as you rip open the cover,
like an old wound;
to a guttural growl
of a million jumbled words.
But you will stare him down,
til the sound becomes perfect sense…
…afterall, you wrote his snarl
and his purr….