there need not be iron bars
to keep a heart imprisoned
there is no white flag of surrender
nor o-d, nor cutting would resolve
nor does the coming-off of chains make one trully free
the stench of blood curdled cold
staining my cheek with ferrous-ity
on that flee bitten bunk each unforgiving night
a plaintive prayer wafts in upward draft
to rejoin the fraying bonds of you and me
no prison bars my mind and heart could hold
no gruesome sight my countenance would melt
and should a sliver of light be forsaken, live
if we but have a moment pure as gold
