Drawing the Curtain (poem)

1:
I see you
gazing up into my window,
my sweet and dear Juliet.

You watch me
as I string out the thick curtain,
to conceal the light within.

Still you stand,
eyes fixed and fire in tight grip,
exhaling Death's sweet perfume.

Through the blood,
the curtain, your gaze slips through, says:
“who does this mask belong to?”

2:
The man belongs to the facade,
and his heart a trash bin in the corner,
his soul stashed in the drawers. 

Oh, my solemnly named stranger,
will you venture into this apartment,
and search its dark crevasses? 

Will you be the light that shines through,
burning through the blood curtain, the jail guard,
revealing a world made new?

Will the prisoner know no cell,
and know no order to close the curtains,
be free to touch the skies?

3:
Hold fast to this light
for dark returns with cloth in hand,
let go of the light: the curtains cast on.

Forget your old name,
for you are the boundless and true,
and as much as I see you, you see me.

Collect my pieces,
strung about this room, but not lost,
and build me again, stronger than before.

So when next I fall,
no prison cell will contain me,
and no curtains will hide my radiance.

-Zero