he who once sent her pictures of flowers to make her smile and dance.
his tone and chest tired, for to him loving is an art.
a form of creation and he is sick of being the bigger heart.
"that shit is for kids and fools" he said with a grin,
lightning thru his chest, nothing in between
being alone has began to feel so good
in the jungle of romance he is just predator's food
he once loved with no control
now hides his emotions, it hurst most as one gets old
he is not a trophy, nor something to show off
he is a good heart, best with the lights off
he is alive and dreaming
alone in the dark no one hears him screaming
he is happy to be alone yet misses romance
he is standing by the dance floor ready to dance.
"that shit is for kids and fools" he said
speaking of romance
he is sick of being alone
yet alone he will dance.