Too many cliche’s well up
within my mind.  I stand them
in the corner closely examining each.
I hope that there is one that has gone
unnoticed, untouched, more pure than
the rest.

Angels, hearts and flowers
spill across the page like heaps
of rose petals, promises of love
and a left over brilliant starry night.

I crank up Wagner, reach concerto
heights with Bach and stand on
Beethoven’s 5th, as Jack Daniels
shakes my hand. Jack leans in close
and rolls his bourboned tongue
across my own.

Breathing deeply Dessay’s
operatic beauty tries an Aria
to sooth the ache that Jack
just wants to numb

There is only one word that cuts
its way from deep inside my aorta out…
Yearning…yearning… not for love;
but for her heart.

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