I looked for her, you know, my fool heart curious at each new name. I saw her: my sort of pretty, sure enough, but something was missing -- some spark of a smile. We danced, and though she knew all the steps, she had nothing to offer.
I bade her goodbye; my fool heart belonged to me.
I walked with her, happy enough for company, my fool heart flattered at her interest in its hidden romances. We sat on a bench and looked at the stars. The night grew cool and she curled upon herself; I could not take what I would not give.
I heaved then a sigh; my fool heart belonged to me.
I turned her on her back and found more beneath than I expected. I asked what Providence wanted of her, and her uncertainty grated out over knives of exasperated sincerity. I stumbled about, my fool heart wanting to run where we walked, until I turned around and found her standing close by, patiently waiting for me.
She smiled and said "Hi"; my fool heart belonged to she.
I waited on her, trusting in words as footsteps diverged. Ambushed, neither could rescue the other from soul-sapping success, and each overcame apart -- and so we grew. Defiant of the tide, we set a honeyed course for the moon. My fool heart, anxious for an end to the cold isolation inhabited by lonely claws, revived and believed.
It had been a lie; hie, fool heart, along to me.
