Heart On The Floor

Heart On The Floor

Sweet dreams flow through skin so still
on the peaceful desert floor.
Stare up through your two sleeping eyes
where the weary but hungry soar.

Short tight skirt, lace covered legs,
Max Factor lips and Maybelline eyes,
hearing his age, through her dangling rings,
she must just wonder, "how wise?"

In a solo dance she takes to the floor
with a quiet but confident air.
Steeped in stares, hungry and hot,
suggestions screamed silent to each pair.

The jury is hushed, sheltered in shadow,
her fake diamond rings shine so bright.
Beads of sweat, real but cold,
glint on her throat in the light.

Twenty four eyes glow deep in the dark,
burning, yearning, they drink of her skin.
Too far gone for far too long,
she whispers sweet stories, then grins.

Squinting hard through the blue-gray haze
where sawdust coats the floor,
his dreaming eyes, too slow to escape,
are snared by her stare, wanting more.

Slender wings soar midst silent storms
in search of the easily led.
Quick to spy surreal riches,
while ignoring those in your head.

But isn't that the very place,
besides the lock on your heart,
where gold and ruby treasures stay
safe from someone street smart?

The lock is sometimes opened
by combinations of true blue lies,
soon enough closed again, when
sadness leaks from your eyes.

Blood hot tears down weathered cheeks
spatter wet on dusty shoes.
Phonograph needle skips on the question,
who... who... who...

Who could've known how to talk
past the guardians of your soul?
Fallen angels sound like angels,
fool's gold looks like gold.

A warm heart is what she really wants,
in this world of hearts gone cold.
Long gone any hope of lasting love
if a secret truth be told.

Her empty arms, her tired soul,
both ache for something real.
They rarely give, mostly take,
beg, borrow, or steal.

It didn't start out to be this way
she remembers back to school.
They may have grown older in years,
but boys remain boys, so cruel.

So this is now her way of life,
how she makes it day to day,
silently promising feelings so soft,
but Lord, how you will pay.

She takes her leave like they always do,
another loss in the same old game.
You're left all alone to shave in the dark
mirror that glows black with your shame.

We all know where we're going
if we've been there once before.
Your reflection, too, is to blame
for the heart, so tattered and torn,
that lies bleeding,
in the dirt,
underfoot,
on the floor................