A glint of silver halts my train of thought-
Last stop Reality.
The cuff, or is it gravity, pulls me to my captor.
The chain between us rattles softly As if laughing at how hopeless I am around him.
My wrists may be in pain,
But it's nothing compared to how my act is dissolving.
With each awkward sleep we share,
Each facing the wall,
The role of the apathetic victim becomes harder to face.
How does he expect me to resist temptation?
How does he expect me to resist him?