Chains

He will never ask and I will
never hear again.  It is his way;
he will wonder but he will
not venture out.  Other things
will capture his fancy; every
day will bring him happier
life.  Over time, pain may
fade and I will continue be-
coming whoever I am meant
to be.  I am imagining forward
in order to infuse my wounds
with hope.  A balm meant to
keep me upright instead of
on my knees, praying to let
go.  I shall no prisoner take but
love, I wrote, and having taken,
I am taken in return.  No keys
remain, and still, he will never
ask.