By Don Kenton Henry
Where does a broken heart go
Where are lost loves found
Is there a valley or a meadow where cupid’s arrows gone awry lie
A place where spring does not spring and in winter’s icy grip the hearts of the heart broken, by heart breakers, are held bound
Where hope like a dove has flown and, with dreams, has gone to die
Where are there lips for lips longing to be kissed
Where are there lovers for lovers longing to be missed
Where are there caresses for soft hair . . .
And words of passionate tenderness to fill what was once but empty air
Perhaps you don’t remember but you pulled me from that place
You rescued me from the wreckage of star-crossed relationships as though you were the jaws of life’s good grace
Took me from a head on collision at the intersection of failed expectations; lay me down and picked the shards of shattered glass from my heart and broken soul
You fixed and patched what lesser loves and unmeant, unkept promises left tattered and stripped bare
Breathed life into a life with nothing left to share, nowhere else to go
And there is no Hallmark card for this
No canned script penned with some mercenary muse’s pen for some faceless lover
That he or she will never see
A rhyme paid for with a corporate dime
No, not I
I am not some poet for hire
This ain’t no Candy-Assed Bouquet
No call to 1-800-DIALACLICHE
And no Berry Romantic Berries for which the unimaginative will pay
No giant Vermont Teddy Bear you’d never buy
But I had ya goin’ for a minute didn’t I!
I am the one you found in the dim light of a smoky honky tonk
You gave me a wink–our Shiner Bachs clinked–and you taught me how to rodeo in the bed of my jacked up dual cab Silverado
No . . . I ain’t no Hallmark Union hack
I’m your Cowboy Bard in a 20x hat
This ain’t no Hallmark card; I’m through with this prattle
And this poet warrior’s now out of words, except to say,
“Broken hearts have to get back in the saddle”
And–oh yeah–by the way . . .
“Happy, happy, baby . . . Happy Fucking Valentine’s Day!”
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