The Broken

  
The heart has its reasons,
of which reason
knows nothing...it knows only
that where there is something
to soothe
it cannot be denied...and I confess
I see that something
sometimes
when I look
in your eyes in the evening's
fading dusk-light,
or observe my lion
of the mornings...and I want to caress
and kiss away
the yearnings
of my grounded kite of pink skies,
and catch your every
fluttering emotion like a tender
butterfly held in a net,
or a moth
with wet, and damaged, but
beautiful, wings
that beat the air like a wild
thing unable to break free...
and to tell you that we
can touch, and talk, and be
together
until the dawn...
but still all I will have to give as release
is my heart that answers your silent call...
...and my soul...
and all
that is left...
of me.