People have a strong misconception about prison. They go on what they see in those Hollywood movies: they think being sentenced for life causes this spiral into a restoration of morality. But not for me.
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Water stealing the air,
Like a precious jewel thief.
Empty and bereft,
I hear its mocking laugh.
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I can almost taste your lips when I think of you, the feel of your skin pulsating against mine.
The book in my hand paints landscapes of your face such that I cannot read the real words written.
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Moonlight beckons to its friends,
snakes start their hypnotising song
as they sharpen their teeth.
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An invasion of auburn
seize the shadows,
commanding the explosions
of light to scatter.
Trying to move him is difficult.
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He takes one last look at her through the glass panel in the door before he leaves: he does this every night.
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If something strange and mysterious were to happen, I would never be so arrogant as to think such a thing could happen in my presence.
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