To Feel

Sinful

Unconditioned.

Oh, I had myself flung

onto the shackles of his prison.

Where I would dwell in cells,

for unending days and months.

I would incarcerate and chain this heart,

To be kept here, ugly as a place may be,

In his profoundly oppressive home.

For I would stay, 

swollen in love.

No matter how dark.

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False.

This was a fictitious awakening,

birthed in compulsive lies

and untruths.

Yet, grounded in your reality.

That it was seldom a world, solely of sin.

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Penance.

Is that my motivation?

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A/N: Feel free to drop a comment, review or discuss my poems. 

And just, 

well, 

feel.