Eggshell-shattered shards are scattered up and down your sleeve.
In the footprints of a thief
the thirsty dust drinks broken trusts and mocks sincere belief.
Lightning flashes. Wind and ashes blow in bitter gales
that taste of cold betrayal.
But while you live, it's yours to give: This heart is not for sale.
So don't forget, but don't regret, and let these be the last words spoken,
Only a faithless heart cannot be broken.
--for Bobbe, among others
Monday, November 21, 2005
Thief of Hearts
Labels:
free rhyme,
poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment