Sunday, February 03, 2008

The Things that Our Hearts Know

You don't exactly fill my heart with joy;
It's more like greed, a sort of stupid greed
For something I know I don't really need.
You specialize in being sly, and coy,
And mocking me for being just a boy,
And cooing gently, simply to mislead,
My poor heart following you at top speed
Into a blind street, like a broken toy.

Yet here I am, and here you are also.
We're both aware that something isn't right,
But when the day ends, in the fading light
We only know the things that our hearts know:
Maybe I can't get where I want to go.
Maybe this place is where we'll stay, tonight.

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