H.M. Gautsch

There are cages that never clang shut,
cells built from misunderstanding,
corridors mapped by other people’s guesses.
I’ve walked through those hallways
with my heart unlatched,
hinges loose like they’d been borrowed
by someone who never planned to return them.

Some people call it love.
Some call it curiosity.
But too often it’s a gamble
where the stakes are your softness.
Their interests drift in like touri