The dream broke
like a prodigal sun
on a startled spring evening
causing him to squint
blinking away happiness
like sand
in the eyes of love
you were there
on the shores of sadness
you broke the news
you took his keys
you took your leave
then you took his shoes
you took him for a fool
it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending
no broken hearts
at least
not yours
in love’s roulette
and the stranded man
in the leather chair
had my face
had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing
and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart was in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony sill
to watch it wither
in the moonlight
he had no need for it
nor most certainly
did you
as the night lark sang
a silver tear
had fallen hard
from his sullen cheek
which you collected
in a sterling box
and tossed into the sea
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
~ If ya’ gotta lil’ mo’ time, here’s a lil’ mo’ Tom. Yessa’ if ya’ ain’t lates, here’s ‘nother taste — a full snifta’ o’ Mista’ Waits. ~