The man without a heart stares
At the frames and pedestals he'd requested,
A catalogue of might-have-beens
Where love was not nestled in among other things,
Not part of a package deal.
It made him a slave to bitterness;
Imagining women in the gallery of studs,
Always trying to give in, never able to,
In search of the perfect love, the selfless heart.
These kindling connections
Are enough to light the sidewalks home
But not enough to doom you
To a life apart and alone,
Enough to light the mirrors of your faith
To see in fragile glimpses just how softly
You must touch others lives.
