You are like a window pane, and your nuance glimpsing at me from the outside. To you, the inside looks good but you don’t dare come in to feel the pleasure and pain that I want to share with you. You don’t care to layer the inside of my olden house with new bricks or paint but you dare to rest in my comfort. You don’t care to augment your game with new tricks but lay there waiting on me like I am pro and you are a novice. In the real sense, you are alone at your test of me; my space is always at its best though jaded. No room for doubt or failure, I will renovate my house. Like curtains we are drawn together by the warmth of the night but will forever be apart in daylight. Like a sightless butterfly, I am not free but bound by the chains of my cocoon. If I set myself free I am afraid of the uncertainties of tomorrow but if I don’t am chained by the insincerity of today and yesterday. But I have no choice but to be me and thankful for the warmth of our drapes provide. Even though temporary.