Plight of the Loverboy

I don't have a heart to break

it was never put back together

last I ever checked,

you had your hands on it last,

and every woman afterward just played with broken glass,

and gave me a pass, because some saw sense in my mess,

palms on my chest

hard to confess that I often feel nothing

still something makes me chase a face to take your place.

things change, we know that better than most,

this time I chose to stay on my toes, ready to weave if need be,

bullets miss like I hit the matrix and it froze,

I never stopped being who you said I was,

if I wasn't, then why would I say I was.

maybe cause you're the most important critic.

you ate here, slept here, drew patterns in my carpet.

Beautiful, but temporary, washed away by my dragging feet.