I spun a wheel which told me so
that it was time to just… let go
of a love which ran on fractured legs
with four left feet, and collapsed into bed.
Of a promise which flickered, then dimmed, and blew out
leaving desolate sweethearts enshrouded with doubt
whose smoke wouldn’t shift, hanging thick in the air
blackened by smog, staining skies once clear.
The giving away of stillborn romance
the failure of watching it slip through the hands
enduring such pain, to hold motionless bones
to then rise in the morning, and go home alone.
Like a dream, or a nightmare, or portions of each
that stole from our slumber, and robbed us of peace
tempting with fancies of finest fool’s gold
that glittered in moments, but could never grow old.
The hatchet now buried, the coffin well nailed
a new lesson learned, another spun tale
of the lovers who ran with two broken hearts
whose path split at last, and drew them apart.