Queen of Hearts

I’m strung out on another world — a woman wired tight. Music spills from my fingers, runs down to my toes. One pill — and it all slips away. I tumble down the rabbit hole. But I’m not Alice. I’m the Queen of Hearts. I’m not looking for a way out. I’m singing all the wrong words, losing my tempo — my lyrical lyre abandoned on the floor. Still, I burn. I’ll never forget sitting beneath that chestnut tree. I pressed my palms to the bark — solid, like him. But I couldn’t hold him. And the tree couldn’t leave like he did. Still, the universe poured into me. I was flipping through pictures of you I never took — snapshots of us in places we never stood, lit by a sun we never touched. Memories we never made — but I carry them like old postcards from a dream I forgot to wake from. In the rain, you locked your bike and looked into my eyes. I was stunned — it was like staring into the sunrise. And you — you fell into mine. I wasn’t looking for love. But it hunted me — something louder than the scream in my head.