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The Prisoner

by Esther Frances 

Posted: 10 September 2006
Word Count: 185
Summary: Observing others that choose to remain trapped..

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Content Warning
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.

The Prisoner

Every day and living night
she wanders past my prison cell
that ‘humming chorus’…
like some fucking Madam Butterfly
She feigns her nonchalance
but I know well….. she loves me still
I feel her wait and watch my moves in dimness
See the tenderness in her look
With eyes that bind my soul
I feel that her tears sting in mine
Heaviness in my chest that once held a heart
Truth is, she always did want to gauge
those things I could not show…even to myself

Every hour or so
I think of her, of her alone
Bent stiff…..
and writing….
I struggle with my genius
And she does too
I wonder if outside of loving me
She has some hidden plan, some lead to swing
But now I’m feeling ill at ease
as her thoughts penetrate my maze of a head
and they remind me (with some irritation)
of what I might have had in you and me
Precisely, where our paths diverged
is both academic yet mysterious to me

I suppose that you could say
I am in mourning too.........

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