A Broken Man

i’m a broken man, not all there in the head
sometimes i feel free only to discover the valise i bought
was the spine of another man’s pants —
purchased with love, out of his very first paycheck

and i should have felt something,
i should have mourned
for my greed and my cheap reasoning
that i deserved a shroud on my back
more than he deserved to walk
but i am a broken man
i can not get my own legs back
i can not recognize where i am at
i am a broken man like teeth pulled apart
maybe no gaps in my smile,
but —
holes
in my heart.

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