You

If I had the royal road to your soul
I would drape your heart all over it
I would line the edge of that path
with memories of when you have been hurt:
the little mirrors that show you glimpses of the rest of you,
that you keep safe: locked in a cage.

Your life sleeps under wraps.
You say you can choose to let it out
But you never do.

Occasionally you take a guest to the cage,
rattle the bars and wake the beast
to remind yourself,
to dazzle the others,
“look, this is the fullness of me!”
“See how I can dance!”
“See how beautiful this is, how I spread my wings!”
But it hurts when your wings clip the cage
So, you put yourself back to sleep.
Cover the cage.
“Best to leave it alone”
“Let it rest for a while”

You say you can choose to let it out
But you never do.

Occasionally you think people glimpse what sleeps in the cage.
That despite the covers they might see through,
without your choice,
without your control.
So you skip gaily around it, spouting nonsense, lying

ever more delicate and artistic covers over it.
The better to hide it,
the better to keep it safe.
But your cage is the most obvious thing in the world;
the dance and the covers transparent.

You say you can choose to let it out

But you never do.