hearts

I love

their love

that is not mine

that isn’t meant to be

for anyone else

except their

hearts

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petty thieves

as my head grows tired

wicked thoughts persist

my handkerchief’s been stolen

by Oliver Twist, such grueling times

though we both know,

more gruel for the youngster

the farther he’ll go,

and what petty crimes

the slip of the tongue

but why dear boy, do you continue to run?

I’ve asked you first, now answer

me? It’s for my health, and body you see,

nobody likes a little cunt

nobody cares for the likes of us

so hand it over, my handkerchief? No

my boy, you’re not a thief,

I knew that then, like I know now

your common and good

as good allows,

what I request, you cannot see

it grows within both you and me

those wicked thoughts, hand them over

my head’s now clear, fine and sober

and promise this, all right you first?

no this is not me at my worst,

so why don’t I? well why don’t you?

it’s yours to keep, yes that will do,

you’re right, perhaps I couldn’t see

the horror that in my defeat

is pure of heart, is yours is mine

both petty thieves in our own time

You were the Royal Flush

It’s hard
to be lost
in the shuffle
when you were never
even in the shuffle
to begin with,
like two jokers
in a deck of cards
we were made
for one another.

Can’t you see?
Or am I just
dying to be an Ace!
At least then
I’d have your attention
instead of picking hearts
like I’m a sure straight,
when we both know
you were the Royal Flush
who called my bluff.

You were the Royal Flush
that beat me at my own game.

Listening to Old Country Songs on Women’s Day

You don’t even have to read between the lines.

With all their talk about cold, cold hearts,
bouncing between heartache and chord progression
like a broken record, it’s apparent
why these yodeling old cowboys are obsolete.

Did they ever really sound that good in their time?

At least the melodies sound good, silly boys
if I could remove your voice, I would,
and in its place insert the songs of a woman,
who’s light shines brighter than your sorrow.

Mercedes-Benz –┬ánow that’s a song with heart.