Silent Treatment

I see my shadow, but I've
got nowhere to hide.
No lair seems a feasible option.

I'm asked if I'll stay here, but if
it means I'll continue to endure
cold wind on my back, I'd rather not.

I'd rather go
where I'm actually wanted,
and I don't feel wanted here.

If today repeated itself,
repeated itself, I might
eventually take comfort
in knowing your pattern.

Instead, there is none.
You lock the door,
take the key with you,
and I'm the bad guy.

Today, my shadow is bigger than I am.
Today, I focus on the lies you told,
trinkets left by the window,
my only escape.

Because you won't speak, you force
me to be silent. I'm not supposed to tell anyone
the stories you collected,
strung tightly in the dark.