Here he stands, a broken man,
a victim of his failure.
The surface presents a deep well,
a font of love and emotion.
But a broken man is a fissure,
eventually exposing his
inadequacies and incompetence,
in any circumstance he enters.
A heart renter, not a giving soul,
(don’t tell a living soul he has flaws)
Where others stand in awe,
one hides in the shadow
of his mangled and miserable life.
She, a friend, who offered all,
a lover who gave all,
a holder of secrets kept
to the breakage of all hearts.
It starts with a seductive word,
it ends in despair with the truth
being heard and hurting, skirting
the root cause of his flaws.
Her beauty not-withstanding,
no glue can fix a broken man.
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2016
Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 20: Popular Saying