soak my grievances in the puddle
the bad actor, the love reaper
learn my new heart
the price of our adrift love
playing our greatest hits
to the somber pitiless music
rip my guts out
that’s how it feels
unnerving and disabled
the bottomless well of sorrows and pain
your kisses, oh how they sting now
all the metaphors in the world
won’t mend my broken heart
the bullet from the smoking gun didn’t miss
your aim was good after all
and my heart, an easy target
a bullseye

© jacob greb — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad