My heart is a slave to your soul, and my body is in bondage to your loins. 

My emotions are eternally tied to your persona like the webs of a spider, barely visible and yet strong like steal cables. 

The rate of your breath is the beat of my pulse, and yet I keep trying to break away from you, but you are a habit that I come back to you.

When we are apart I’m short of breath, but your presence causes me stress.

I work for you; bend over backwards for you. The stare of your eyes is like the whip on the backs of the Hebrew in the hands of Pharoah’s men.

The weariness of my spirit quietly sings, “Let my people go.” but the next phrase turns into Tank’s “Please Don’t Go”.

I know you’re no good for me.

You have this tight grip on me.

Nothing you do shows signs of reciprocity, but yet you give me enough to keep me within arms reach.

My hands are tied, my feet are shackled, and as long as you have this hold on me, I’ll have to suffer through this slavery.