Prison Glass

I hold my picture to the glass.

He squints to focus on the figures there.

I swallow and will my tears to retreat. I can hear my heartbeat. This is not the place for tears. The lack of physical touch must be difficult for an affectionate man. A man of endless hugs and handshakes. My heart breaks. This is all his fault, or is it? Abuse of substances and people, turns into more of the same. Generations of pain, and sadness. The madness. Prison was nothing new. Prison is something passed down to you. I will find the key. Unlock the doors. We will not be locked in this prison anymore.