I am ready to open up

I’m a well hung work of art
Perfectly positioned in the room
By the corner of the couch
In a comfortable lean
Like I’ve always been here
Waiting for the light to hit me
And catch your eye

At home in my sky castle
Bounded by bare white walls
Blocked by an unopened door
I am squares within squares
Long curtains of curls frame my face
My eyes, boxed in black plastic and glass
A carefully crafted display
Waiting for you to stroll by

I’m a contained presence
I pace nervously in my box
Like a wrapped gift, sealed away

Invisible

An invitation on a folded card
Hiding impotent squiggles
A package waiting to be delivered
Anticipation is an untugged string