Half light, gaze upon her seductive gambit,
and recoil. A flinch mirrored in wine glasses
betrays your apprehension. Leave now,
discover how to reclaim never known purity.
In the silence is a broken heart, confused.

Break night sanity, flickering lights break
before dawn is upon you. You choose her,
but she is in control. An hour, a moment,
leave with kind words, sweet and empty.
The broken heart stays, and blames itself.

In plight, young and fresh. Your age betrays
your confidence, but still you mask intention.
A smile, a touch upon an innocent cheek,
she is yours. And then she leaves.
What? No. She was to be a broken heart.

Question yourself. You were too bold,
or perhaps too reserved. Fall into fear
and realize who you can never be.
Fall from grace and from their graces,
You’ll create no broken hearts alone.

Is she married yet, have you even asked?
Do you remember the dancing girl’s name?
No. You only remember she who walked away.
In questioning insincerity, you only break yourself,
They are the broken hearts, and they still live their lives.

J.L. Oakman