Empty Hearts

EMPTY HEARTS

I self-medicate with art

Alone with an empty heart

I was walking in Montmartre

Looking for a brand new start

I found a red haired man

Something in my heart fell

He looked at me and frowned

I looked at him and then down

I tried to understand

And follow his every step

But the only thing he left

Was art for every breath

Sadness behind the bars

The bars of his empty heart

I wonder why he felt

Alone and alone again

To think of him is to think of me

And I realize

I’m not longing for a friend

I want to find him in my bed

I’m not longing for a friend

I want my empty heart to be dead

His life is familiar and I see

His eyes are the saddest to me