A Heart in Five Parts

I am sitting in a place nobody wants to be, thinking of my girl. Baby, who is going through that thick head of hair? There was a time I'd give my neck to be near her, but now I'm feeling a noose tighten around it when I'm by her. I desire for her to feel the same, and there is no going back. She'll still be as bright and clear as a summer's day. Her hobbies are all winners, I can't get over her beauty, and she's a brunette from hell.

I'm thirty-two years old, and I live alone. I have a house, but I won't go into it. You might think that I'm a loser, and you'd be right. I got my heart shattered so many times, like you wouldn't believe it if you're lucky. In a twist, it was all by one, one horrid girl. I'm on a park bench throwing bread at pigeons, nature's little flying rats, and it's gratifying enough to forget my predicament, old wounds itching in my heart.

Two years ago, I was sitting at this bench feeding the little shits. Now they're annoying me and my new girl, my only girl. We have a history, but the future is where it is at. She met me here, and now we can't even kiss because of these damn pigeons. I grab her knee, and she grows hot and cold, I can see. I can see myself as a masterful blacksmith, heating and submerging in a bucket of water a piece of metal.

She is singing. Today, she crashed against me like a wave, in a good way. Her talents are golden coins in a leather bag, and she has many talents. I could take her outside, but I'm not going to. I'm putting my arm around her, and this night we could spend together, alone in silent love. She's an icebreaker, and her hair is blonde sea-foam at a sunny isle. She is singing a different tune, one I also like.

She isn't even similar to the other girl, and, boy, that is a good thing.