Hey,
I’m sorry,
I accidently broke your heart…
you see,
it kind of fell—
it wasn’t on purpose
I’d placed it on a table, for safe keeping
I just didn’t realize—
or rather I forgot—
the table was standing on three legs;
you see,
I’d meant to fix that table long ago,
this isn’t the first time for me,
but every time I go to sit with it
something new comes along
and I get to thinking…
maybe it can wait.
Maybe I don’t have to work on that right now
maybe three legs and half okays are okay
people still keep coming over to lunch anyway.
I prop it up with books you see,
decorate the space with accomplishments, the places I’ve been
no one seems to really notice.
At first, when we sit down
and the conversation flows
no one seems to know
that really the foundation is wabbly
that everything isn’t level
that things don’t quite line up
it’s really only after a few visits
when folks start to get comfortable
that anyone figures it out—
they finally see
that really
this table can’t support much
nothing heavier than the occasional foam flower
just a prop
for decoration
to distract from the otherwise chaotic space
semi-shrouded by the dark.
I keep the lights dim you see,
so no one can really tell unless they really stop and look up close
but no one really ever does.
Except you did,
and then you saw it,
and you still stayed for a bit,
but then
even though you knew about the table with only three legs
for some reason,
you chose trust—
you chose to put your heart on that rickety table
that table that can’t really support much
and I tried,
I really did
I stacked up more books I’d read,
I found more shiny gifts to prop it up with,
hell, I even tried bargaining with it
but nothing worked—
and your heart still fell—
and now it’s broken—
just like my table.
Caia Rose 