Ah, again
The bitter raisins of a
Broken heart
Served with my oatmeal
And coffee as if
I had nothing better
To do than listen
To you.

I suppose
We’re both remembering
When I jumped at the chance
To have you pour your tears
In my cup, or salt my
Omelets with your woe

And all the times
While listening raptly
I was wondering when
You’d get it, that the
Fault was not in them
But in you

Or that the poets were
Right all along:
The definition of
Insanity is doing the same
Thing over and over
And expecting a
Different result

Don’t get me wrong;
I’d always listen;
You still own a piece of me
That wants to understand
How a heart so beautiful
Can be shredded so often
By the cruelties inflicted
By so many men

But the sympathy and empathy
You used to find so welcoming
Have gone to Cleveland, and
They left no forwarding address
And since my own heart
Became a tattered standard
Every time you raised a breeze
I decided that if one of us
Was to keep on going crazy
Every time it broke…

Well, darling,
It wasn’t going to be me.

06/05/2012

Posted on 06/05/2012
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