I looked at the wrinkles on my hands
The moment you walked out our door.
I won’t pretend I have again
Washed the surface of my heart.
I have started ruling around
Uneven cobbles on my surface,
I have begun to admit uneasily
This wasn’t the safety you wished for.
I’ve always wanted a new heart.
Not in the easy sense of amateur
Linger lust or unreasonable memories;
No, I’ve wanted new, unwritten rules
That my heart cannot respond to,
An itch in my left hand.
Take no meaning, my dear heart.
All of this is just in passing,
I am simply covering my tracks.