I was missing my heart, but I found it.

Amongst the darkness, amongst those cast from society.

I found her, my heart, in a restaurant,

no Michelin star in sight, quite the opposite.

My heart was beating through tables,

searching through faith for her home.

I feel her beating from afar, calling her own name.

“Love, love where are you?” the words run

slow like honey from supple lips.

I found my heart in that restaurant,

but lost her just as quickly.

Untamed feelings, raging fits of passion,

unleashed temperaments in closed spaces.

The spirits I drank were not amiable all the time

and neither was she, giving silent orders.

I couldn’t hear her over the Paul Masson.

But the day she left I could feel it break, my heart.

Broken into a thousand pieces,

shimmering in a pool of my tears.