Prisoner In My Heart
Iron bars do not such a penitentiary make
as the flesh and muscle construct that enfolds
the thoughts and idylls of your mystic travel
through the byways and the arteries of my soul.
The engaging levitation of charisma
it elevates the crowded keening of my woes,
dispersed the mob rule of my cold agendas
to a dove-white transformation for the crows.
Until the brightest and most radiant patina
banished shadows from the dark aortic cells,
and the brunette nights are exiled to oblivion
then true love within my heart is all that dwells.
I shall hold your dream a captive here inside me,
held by daisy chains and manacles of dew,
a prisoner in my heart despite your leaving,
a place where I can always be with you.
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