the human heart goes for one million dollars, yet i cannot give mine away
intrinsic value compared to sense of worth i suppose
but still i stand on the street playing the violin for loose change
fingers dancing on the strings, eyes closed and visions of you play on in my head
spinning signs on the corner, trying to attract eyes for my newest failed venture
the manuscript i sent today to the publisher, another loose collection of inane thoughts to be ignored
what i would give to not fail again
in life, in love, incomprehensible pain
drawing vistas in chalk in the center of the highway
and stick figure couples in the dirt on van doors
little doodles lacking substance
the human heart goes for one million dollars legally, ten times that on the black market
so take mine, it’s yours
sell it for whatever you can get out of it and run away
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
Eh, could never get what it’s worth. It’s invaluable.
LikeLiked by 1 person
and there goes the blushing again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
hhhmmm… I will respectfully disagree
LikeLiked by 1 person
On which part
LikeLike
Giving your heart away. I don’t believe you do or will. I think you keep it carefully blocked and covered up with layers of doubt and self-loathing. And I’m not questioning your reasons, just that you to strike me as one who actually gives your heart away. Separating the poetry from the author, I get it. But as a unit, I disagree. That’s my opinion.
LikeLike
If only. I see what you mean. But the part of me that isn’t the tragic writer is the lovesick fool the writer mocks and tried to deaden. As of now my heart is in a plain brown paper box at the post office awaiting delivery
LikeLike
Huh. Interesting.
LikeLike