Prison

You're hiding yourself inside that body.
I'll get you out.
You may think you've got me fooled,
But the shivers at my touch,
Give you away.

Can you feel these killer's hands,
Gently caress your neck?
You wouldn't think it to look at them, would you?
They seem the fingers of a pianist, not a killer.
Beautiful, yet brutal.

How best to draw you out?
With gazes like knives?
Or knives, like razors?
The prison of flesh that confides and confines,
Is what I find desireable.

I grow cold in the gales of your breath,
I am seared by the fires in your flesh.
Can it be you're trying to break free?
The more my hands touch your frail form,
The more of yourself escapes into this night.

Wait! Another minute, please.
I can feel it, secondhand - yet powerful.
The more you draw away,
The more I want you,
But all you are is founded on a pack of lies.