Prison of the Heart
Granite slabs stretch toward the sky
An endless field of grey.
A ghost haunting her streets.
Clouds looming over my shy sigh.
It was our final doomsday,
One that required seats.
The showing was over,
And I sat with my own thoughts.
A sarcophagus of memory.
My thinking is what drove her
Away from me. Drawing lots,
Locked in the penitentiary.
My punishment comes in waves,
As I think about what I’ve done.
Nobody is left to forgive,
As I’m stuck surrounded by graves.
The last forgotten son,
Doomed to forever live.
When the towers collapse,
I’ll be drifting still.
The buildings may go,
But her love is there, perhaps
She believes I deserve good will.
I will remember her, for it’s what I owe.
The Philistine Review 
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