to late to change.
Smiles, laughter, a hug, a touch, you
You unlocked the door.
My heart it’s stolen
My heart has been stolen before.
On an occasional sunny day
a long legged girl with a cherry red Revlon smile
will steal it.
Till she rounds the corner or my eyes get distracted.
There’s always the endless party
too sober to have fun
too intoxicated to drive.
A girl spinning, twirling to the Reagan era
will steal my heart.
Her drunken kiss.
My drunken boredom.
My heart always returns in the morning.
My heart never came home.
Has she put it in her tampon box
taken out once a month
after 3 weekends of sour dates?
Is it in her cigarette tin
taken out for an occasional fix?
Could it be in her underwear drawer?
Lacy, frilly, fun to touch
until a new Victoria Secret catalog comes in the mail
then tossed away?
Maybe she put it in her music box
openend at bed time
falling asleep to it every night.