For added poetic flavour, I wrote this in a leatherbound notebook with an anatomical heart stencil on the front; some of the romance goes out of it if you learn that I wrote it on the bus, so pretend I didn’t let that slip.
I have exhausted my repertoire of rhymes
on assaulting battlements in verse
And now I come to gates held open
No need for all my practiced poet’s lines;
I wish I’d come to this castle first
And saved the sense of my tongue
for now I’m stammered silent, wits numb
forced by an empty library to unlock
the path to the dessicated heart
and all my sad constructed songs slip and drift apart
the cage unlocked, the poet defrocked;
speaking unwanted naked truth, in shock.