One Hundred Hours

I heard the stars exploding as

I watched the door close behind you.

Things would be different now.

Again.

Still.

We were in love for

one hundred hours.

and then you,

pragmatic and careful,

tearfully disappeared.

You thought about all the bad things

that might happen.

I thought about all the good.

You may have been smart

to exercise caution and logic.

But me?

I’m a believer.

One hundred hours later,

I picked up a pen and a guitar and

started to write.

My heart is not a toy.