Weeds and Wishes

Scatter shot gunshy
It's not like I was sowing wild oats as much as just
Tossing seeds where I'd thought they might grow
Not too much left of my heart though
Trying to put the script back together
Love's an excuse to get hurt

I try on the lines...
It all feels like Dejá Vú
If there's such thing as a "one"
I blew that boat to kingdom come eight years gone 
Gather.  Wince.  Repeat. 
There are things I do when I love someone.
Things that remind me that I've loved before, but even
Acquaintances have their pet names and rituals

I've never been unfaithful
But now I know I'm capable.
No one has asked for all of me
In quite some time
And now?
Time to gather up the dandelions
Blown at passers by.

I pretty much like everyone
At least I try.
Usually loving someone
Means I stop trying to make them mine.

They tell me I should marry
I want to
The girls ask me how old I am
If I have a family,
If I want to marry an American girl,
I know what all the questions mean.
But I've made it 28 years without
Breaking more than a handful of hearts
Or sleeping (in the sexual sense) with anyone's current
Or future wife.

Hope is a thing with fangs
That tears at the soul
And won't leave you alone.
The what-if-parade of
Next year's models
Will catch you and not let go.
Possibilities
Tearing at your throat.
And I've almost never seen a marriage
That I would want.

I've almost found room in my heart
To fit a whole world inside
It bursts, and I don't know how
To make it mine
And what do I have to give?
A broken wish, a scattered dandelion.

Hope is a thing with fangs
That tears at the soul
And won't leave you alone.