by Cherry Homer
I’m standing on the wrong side of a door that won’t open. If I could reach through it, I would be able to touch the shoulder of the person I want to be. As it is, I’m trapped here. Between your dreams and mine. Why must I always tread the paths you’ve chosen? I’ve a mind of my own, but the power to use it leaked away, along with my control, the night you kissed me and told me beautiful lies.
Cherry Homer lives in the UK. She's a member of Critters Bar, a forum for writers to post, read, and critique short stories.