She broke Bread…
I’m sorry, so sorry, dearest brother of mine.
You clothe me in cuffs, but I committed no crime.
I won the master bed. You’re on the livingroom cot.
I got what I always wanted and you, simply, did not.
I’m sorry, so sorry, solemn songbird, my son.
My only sunshine rises with me each dawn.
Your moon’s never harvest; it’s always crescent.
Her dark side: divisor. Your heart: the quotient.
I’m sorry, so sorry, my poor poet prayer.
I’m not thy shepard. Let me be thy soothsayer!
Blaze trails and pave roads passed her “Paradise.”
Your stomach was too big for your mirage eyes.
I’m sorry so sorry, you servicing squire.
Your damsel’s family tree wouldn’t set fire.
But, her lineage was never more noble than yours
Her great grandaddy stole it with dollar-discourse.
I’m sorry, so sorry, my penitent prince.
Your cinnamon serf could not be convinced.
My pauper-poor luck won the heart of my queen.
Now you’re King of the Blues, seafoam green with envy.
I’m sorry, so sorry, scorned, sinning saint.
You deserve dainty dishes from Athena’s plate.
Not pride-blinded eyes of collected costume.
The fabrics are fine, but intentions: untrue.
I’m sorry, so sorry, my withering wordsmith.
I followed my rainbow to my golden goblet.
You followed your map to a chest of fool’s gold.
But your treasure is elsewhere, to have and to hold.
