At first, I thought I would
sink to my bruised knees upon
my return to this wretched place,
where the warden holds the keys in
her sweaty palms, the cheap beer still
lingering on her stale breath,
but I have found a way to fool
them all.
In my cell, I’ve painted
pictures on the insides
of the ceiling tiles,
each one a different scene
from our time together,
each one bringing a smile
far too big for my face.
I’ve glanced at them so much in the wee hours
of the morning only to realize
my eyes have glazed over and your joyful
expression burned into my closed eyelids.

This only hurts for one moment at a time.
The warden doesn’t know how euphoric I
feel when she shuts down the power
for the evening.
The warden doesn’t know I’ve been planning
my escape and I know where she keeps the keys.
I will make my escape.
These moments won’t last forever.