The Sale

I have a broken heart and a half- written poem for sale,

Worth a stallion.

You can see to it

that it's best of quality,

Preserved from the long battles 

And huge armada.

I know the market is dull

Enough to pay attention

To a broken heart and a half-

Written poem,

But I see curious eyes waiting to

Open their money bag,

Tell them they can mend the heart,

If possible,

After all my attempts that turned vain,

Mend it not to look mended,

Mend it to look like a beating one

Perhaps a 3am conversation 

And love over wine may work,

Or a lullaby to sleep.

And complete the poem,

With a sour end or bloodshed,

For my muses are out on a pleasure trip,

Refusing to be back to the world

Of melancholy,

Condemning my contemplations.

As the vicinity became jubilant,

Preparing for festivities,

There I see him, with a huge money bag.

Make the deal with that blue-eyed one,

His eyes are sad enough to buy 

My goods.

Let him have it and tell him what I said.

As I leave riding a black stallion 

And a pouch of extra coins,

I see a perpetual sadness

Overtaking the blue-eyed man

Holding my broken heart and half-written poem close to him.

A.C