You cried me a cage
or I did
until I stood behind bars
each metal rod a
feeling that wouldn’t
blossom in my breast
or one growing
in yours.
Freedom is a hairpin
******* a lock, but
it sure as hell ain’t
running away. I
had a dream
last night
standing at your
door, banging out
too-late I-love-you’s
in Morse Code. You
didn’t answer. Nursing
your pain like
dying embers.
I’d like to swallow it whole
burn blood and fat
till it melts, though
it’s kinder this way
me on my side of the pond
East of yours.