Hopelessly romantic and weary to the bone, the man ran off without his last chance to be with his very own. If he’d look into the mirror and see how she saw the flickering light, he’d realize he was a beacon that drove her home in the midst of careless nights.
They gathered from the washboard the slimy, sunken glares; the ones that set their fattest hooks and brought home eyes that snared. They tried to trap her in a drunken, broken state…cheap tricks and money drawn to lure in tainted bait. Each went home with empty arms and laid on barren beds, in hopes that tomorrow would catch them the big fish, in their sleepless heads.
She tried to tell him gently that nothing is hopeless about romance in this tarnished, careless world. The hearts that beat for love and grace are the ones that remain unfurled. Unraveling the minds and souls of men is a courageous act to follow, but in your heart lay knives that cut at your silver arrow. The one that shoots out war cries and bravely rescues their dirty, sunken ships. The one that shot her through the core as she longed to kiss your lips.
Hopelessly romantic and weary to the bone, the man ran off without his last chance to be with his very own.