pretty boy, pastor's kid,
back of his car.
Drove down the road
but didn't get far.
lovely guy, pretty eyes,
holding hands in the park.
Always a gentleman
until it got dark.
Humble and kind,
the star of the show.
Always respectful
until I said no.
YOU ARE READING
Heartstrings and Other Things
PoetrySnapping like the strings of violins, red dripping on my fingertips. The angels cry for the bleeding hearts, the sirens sing their songs of sorrow, both sobbing in their worlds, apart, what is whole today is gone tomorrow.
