Untitled # 5

She has skin of porcelain and bright stars for eyes.
A river of honey-silk tresses flows down her back in exquisite curls down her  narrow waist
Legs that go on for days and curves that would make any man cry are a signature left in the dark.

This heavenly being puts all I see to shame;
Her smile, a mere mockery of that which once bound us,
And yet
When she speaks, the sound is such a soft and wistful thing.
I almost want to forgive him.
I almost want to forget them.

Then I see her.
All alone, she looks so sad.
Once our eyes meet, it finally hits me.
I finally understand.

Like an old joke between friends, everything seems alright again.
We exchange the same broken, understanding smile.
She asks in that wistful, sorrowful song,
"~This is what heartbreak is all about, right?~"