Your Idea

unrestrained space
is no less a burden when
its yoke wears thin – like liberty
it chafes upon a nakedness that
bares its unchaste odium

it is no secret loneliness is
feeling’s death – nascent dreams
all need corporeality; despair
proves less a living thing than a
reminder of what might have been

there is no ease or comfort where
dimensions freed all flee the blight
of walls or faces smiling in accord
with suppositions saying clear
that this indeed was your idea
© 28 May 2010, I. D. Carswell