If you could sway my heart
you’d gladly chain your own wrists
and with some subtle sleight
swallow the key.
Convincingly, you play harmlessness,
guilt and beguile both,
and shed tears as easily as you once
whispered promises to me.
But you are no captive,
neither to me nor to love.
If I return again to visit your cell,
you would be gone anew;
never once, did you call me home.
RED GLADIOLA 