Broken Heart too.
Palpitations thrusting love in the limelight;
Made it hard, to sleep last night?
One demands sex – the go-to man she calls me.
One demands a kiss – a temptation easily avoided selfish woman.
One is carrying too much guilt – her crazy bundle of joy.
“I want to go to Dubai!” she cried.
She cries a lot these days,
Consumed in anger and remorse as her man departed.
“Seven years!” she told me.
“Seven years and all the time he cavorted off screen!”
She asked my why?
But I am a mere mortal man
“Because he can!
She asked me to wait,
Eight years and counting down towards nuptials
At my graveside.
“Why did I wait?” she implores. “Eight years without love!
Loneliness imposed in my lack of trust!”
Wait not my sweet thing.
Seize the Carp! Every day!
Keep on fishing!
“Am I fisher of men or a fisher of fish?” she cries.
“I am a fissure of the heart,” I reply.