Where I am is quiet most days,
there are those who visit daily;
rarely any one who stays.
My bell rings on its own,
as the wind dictates,
or as the storm rages and shakes.
My prison is stifling above all else,
dreams for us long since tattered;
oh how stupid I felt, nothing now mattered.
I heard the sound of your footsteps,
frantically searching among the places
where I and others are in prison;
we care not for life’s niceties,
or for the people who secured us soundly;
no our desires are simply met,
fresh air first, then a change of clothes.
These rags we wear are all torn,
recrimination later for those
who stole our shoes;
imprisoned or not, there is not much to do.
My faithful watcher gave up on me
as I fought back to this life,
mumbling some thing about a tankard of ale;
one lead to two so ends that tale.
You were crying with your frustration
of a dear friend long gone;
swallowed up or did some one do him wrong.
I blame only myself for this current predicament;
had I thought things through I would still touch you.
I loved your golden hair as it framed your face,
or tickled mine when we both reclined;
you atop, me below,
for the passerby and friends it was show;
night showed our true passions,
our hunger for each other,
there was not a position we had not explored,
not a style we chose to decline.
Whether our love was whispered in the alcoves,
booths or in circles; we cared not,
we were fully aware that they know.
T’was not important how much they knew,
I was insanely in love all told.
Which indeed leads me to the thick of this plot,
bear with me a moment longer please,
every story has its ending;
as did I seeing you upon the divan,
not breathing was more than i could stand,
reeling and stunned i grabbed a vial of
smoky liquid and downed it in one gulp.
My logic you see, was to join you quickly least
you grow tired of waiting and dejected,
leave me for another.
Those who arrived later found one
sleeping deeply, the other not so;
thus here I am hearing your approach
and reaching for my bell cord only to
find it frayed and rotted by time.
I smell you; your beauty.
the hair sweeping about you,
as frantically you seek me,
though dishonored I wait and hope,
as do my fellow prisoners.
I can almost touch your foot,
your dress is somber, a dull gray,
you look better in bright colors,
ankles I have swept my lips across
as I kissed and caressed your feet,
oh, the joy we had intertwined,
breathing rhythmically our minds lost;
we still meet.
Now all past save for your searching,
pausing by me I see all of you, treasured heart,
do you not feel me, do you not sense me
near in this crush of bodies;
I love you beyond measure,
oh curse this prison,
…you walk away