Extract from a Kept Man’s Diaries

There is little difference between day and night, colours blend in shades of dreams; I feel them more than see them. This apartment has become my cage, a barrier I cannot break. The door no longer opens onto a world of smiles, raised glasses, others. I am kept, trapped, a man made toy, a person who has lost his purpose to be purposed by another. This is not the love I signed on for. This is not what I want.
The traffic is heavy tonight. I watch it from our balcony with a glass of claret and a scowl. The sun and moon share the sky for a time dancing across the rooftops like yin and yang. How can their balance, one of celestial proportions, be easier achieved than ours? How?
I glance at my watch; your time approaches. I gulp the wine, a sour year, waiting, just waiting.
You arrive full of gifts, smiles, that look in you eye. It is a look I know I no longer share. You appraise my clothing, hair, even my outlook. You do not see the moon, nor sun, for you are hungry, but not for food.
I wake to another day, another month, another me, and unwrap my presents: clothes. I still cannot leave the apartment. Your will won’t allow it.


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