He was the shadow of a lonely man,
struck by fire, and sparks, and the shock
of a long lost ghost, of,
the girl he had loved.

He lost his touch as he had fallen,
and had swore he was tall with
the faults of his own, but,
he lost like a petal
left on it's own,
in the fall of his winter;
he never did bloom.

He left his beloved in
the scent of his clothes,
when she faded with dismay,
and he forged her signature
like the deed to his soul.

He built her a home,
a set of bones, like a chamber,
in his only chamber.

Beneath his metal chest,
of a soldier who had lost,
and his love in his heart,
caged in like a menegerie.

There, she was safe,
and she was kept tight.
A little memento,
that she couldn't fight.

A lock and a key to keep
her in place.
She was locked in his heart,
and she couldn't escape.

But, alas, she grew restless,
and knew she must go.
But he kept her in place,
in his chamber, her home.