Me, being me
I always wore
My heart
on my sleeve
But now...
no more.
I asked the assistant
if I could see
“...some new hearts
...please? ”
(that would suit
my change of heart) .
“Why, certainly sir! ”
(he smiled sycophantically) .
He showed me
a heart
“...in light pain.”
“Or, if Sir
may not mind me commenting
this deep purple pain
... suits you Sir! ”
“Don’t you have any
...in bright joy? ”
“Or at best
...partial happiness? ”
“Or at least
...contentment? ”
The assistant smirked:
“...at what one must assume
is Sir’s...little joke? ”
“Happiness is so...old hat! ”
“Happiness is...how you say
... so passé! ”
I left the shop
clutching an expensive
purple heart
knowing I would never
wear it
And that it would
hang in the wardrobe
Mocking
My predicament.
So, now
I don’t have a mind
to have a heart.
Get by
(somehow)
... without
...one.