Not heartless, heartbroken
not manipulative, not terroristic

Not heartless, heartbroken
the fields of grass sway bright blue and green
under a red sky weeping
horseless, loveless, alone.

It’s not an unerring path
it’s a wounded warrior pierced by stalactites
huddled cold in the winter
a man searching, and hurting, and crying

Better to have loved
to have splintered
to have shattered
to have hurt
than to remain
the King
of Pluto.