The soft, moist, mingling whispers
silently falling from our lips,
hands grasping through the smooth worn bars,
our clutching fingertips.
The need for us to reunite,
our psyches to enfold,
to end this torture of our minds,
to free our shackled souls.
What wicked fate has placed us here,
this barrier in between
true lovers' selves that seek to fuse,
to merge, to bind, to dream?
What evil, loathsome, sullen force
has cast us on each side of
these chilling bars of steel remorse
in these cells where passions hide?