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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

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