I was missing my heart, but I found it.
Amongst the darkness, amongst those cast from society.
I found her, my heart, in a restaurant,
no Michelin star in sight, quite the opposite.
My heart was beating through tables,
searching through faith for her home.
I feel her beating from afar, calling her own name.
“Love, love where are you?” the words run
slow like honey from supple lips.
I found my heart in that restaurant,
but lost her just as quickly.
Untamed feelings, raging fits of passion,
unleashed temperaments in closed spaces.
The spirits I drank were not amiable all the time
and neither was she, giving silent orders.
I couldn’t hear her over the Paul Masson.
But the day she left I could feel it break, my heart.
Broken into a thousand pieces,
shimmering in a pool of my tears.
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