Midas is sitting alone.
His is the heart that won’t break.
“How can you give when you can’t even take?”
Gold is no softer than stone.
He thinks of the curve of her cheek
But eyes that are gold cannot cry.
These were the eyes that watched Icarus fly.
This is the tongue that won’t speak.
Everyone hungers for gold.
Everyone breaks what they touch.
Giving it all is still taking too much;
His is the heart that was sold.