He asked to be her only
and very easily answered no.
Spoke to me this story,
my heart's now scared, justifiably so.
Would I be the next to shrug,
a roll off the tongue?
A hopeless romantic I used to be,
now, just hopeless some.
Paint my thoughts with beautiful hues
of warmth and tender touch.
When oh so quickly, it changes speed,
like flames to dried out brush.
And all I need is simple here,
your heart without a line.
Yet, still I feel, this heart of yours,
may never someday be mine.