A Theft Of The Heart

She counts 
all the men 
that have 
come and gone 
rise and fall 
tiny notches 
on her wall 
and they will 
never know 
what piece of her 
they have taken 
with them 
and it's not 
anything transparent 
or cliche 
words that rhyme 
or step away 
it's the subtleties 
in her voice 
the way she 
touched their brow 
and as they 
shuffle down the street 
straightening their tie 
and belt buckle
they will never know 
the wonder 
that she felt 
at their absence 
the after thought 
or the expression 
of sorrow 
for the lacking 
in how we have 
raised our boys 
and to her amazement 
there is no hostility 
only remorse 
for what they steal 
and never borrow 
...a theft of the heart

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Magic 8 Ball

Love is a blank 
sheet of paper,
a black hole;
shooting stars 
veer off 
into the darkness 
when there is 
- nothing...
Love is a genie 
in a bottle
with no way 
to escape,
at the mercy
of its master
...It is the closest thing 
to the magnificent 
Magic 8 Ball,
revealing all 
without being smashed
into tiny pieces;
black ink and words
meaningless puddle
spill across the floor 
Love is complex
in its simplicity
...the waxing and waning 
of the moon,
the shift 
from left to right,
or sway 
from side to side
Love rides the tide,
it skips a beat
and loses nothing
when it moves on;
has no advice
or words of solace
as it slips away
without the slightest
sense of abandon
Only a joy 
to have known you ~

© 2014 TrilbyYates