Censoring = Fun Game of Hangman

Staring down the infinite stretch of asphalt

and listening to cars rush by.

Wondering what their destinations and goals are

and if they will ever reach.

I am free. 

You suddenly invade my mind

with misery, rue, and malevolence.

You make me frigid

yet I still shiver in fear.

I am not free.

The goodbyes from the curbside;

the hugs from picking a friend up;

the chivalrous motion of opening the door

hoping for that slim chance of approval.

Humanity exists, and

I am free.

My phone rings with the recognizable ringtone that is 

yours, and I start weeping in agony.

I am past my due, yet

I do not want to return home.

I am not free.

I sneak towards the yellow strip of divide and

lay down, watching the stars.

Your call continues to sound, yet

I don’t hear.

I am free.

Soon.