Paranoia prison

Some bastards got my man trapped inside their warped and paranoid mind. I only see him once in a while and I begin to wonder whether its worth the wait. A woman can’t wait for ever.
When I see him he’s smiling trying to spare me the agony of seeing the bars We both ignore them - pretend they don’t exit - so pleased to see each other , to taste the salt on each others lips. We don’t care sometimes, we hold onto the bars tightly so we can press our faces closer together and kiss - oh that kiss, that brief blissful kiss - that loving tender trusting kiss. But then the bastard always comes with the jangling keys and wraps the bars and all we are left with is the taste of each others saliva on our lips. We hear him coming, pacing down the corridor and from experience we know that the meeting is over, we flinch and remove ourselves fractionally, changing the colour of our eyes, drop the eyelids slightly and take one last cold, look.
And he’s in the room staring sadistically, this Is the best bit for him, he times it immaculately so he can savour every minute of private anguish. He Stands, slopes in a position of waiting, but we know the time is up. My man has already gone, worn out by the withdrawals of the past. He stands up, the warmth of his body has gone, and he’s waning, waiting, for the paranoia to take him back to his voluntary cell, convicting himself, convincing himself its what he wants.
“lets go” He sneers to the jailor”
“another two minutes” the jailor informs
“take the woman away” My man stands
“don’t go Yet”
“don’t go yet”! they cruelly mimic.
“I want to go now, come on man take me away from the woman” The Jailor smiles, passes his hands over his balls and gives them a quick squeeze
“one more minute”
“….ck off woman..” My man says
“just go”
I bow my head, I am helpless in this prison, I have no rights and he is a voluntary prisoner.