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.