Miranda

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Although I am no criminal,
At least not to my own mind,
I know full well
That in many cases
I have not only the right
But the expectation
To remain silent.
This is especially true
When I’m told we’d be better friends
Despite the fact
That we both know the facts
And it was you who leaned in
Not once, but twice
To have your lips meet and rest
Against mine,
And invited me
Not once, but twice
To stay the night
So that our lips might come
To rest against one another
Once more.
I must remain silent.
To speak would take away another right,
And forego another expectation,
That I should not incriminate myself.
Were I to open my mouth,
I should expose myself as both a fraud
And an accomplice,
For I tacitly agreed with your assertions
Although it was plain to see,
At least to me,
That you had waltzed right out the front door
With a heart-shaped gem
Stashed in your back pocket
And a smile of innocence on your face.
Who would dare
Question an innocent man
Or take the word
Of a hysterical woman
Over his statement of no intent?
He is wise to the ways of the law,
Knowing full well what agreement was made,
And that to expose him
I should also expose myself,
Making a fool and an example
Of yet another love-stoned hipster
Sipping coffee and writing poetry,
Scarf dangling over keyboard and glasses
Pushed high on the nose
At the window bar
Of the corner Starbucks.
The police are on my heels,
Their arrows aimed to strike down
She who was so careless that
She allowed her security
To be so easily distracted
As to be completely useless
And certainly overpaid
Perhaps while they weren’t even
Stationed alert at their posts.
The hounds can smell the passion
Running thick and hot within my blood,
Heavy with intensity and anticipa-
Tion that something might change
In my favor,
Or that I shall be caught
Red and empty handed,
For there isn’t another to hold it.
When the time comes,
It would be in my best interests
To keep mum,
Lawyer up,
And bear arms against all who dare
Attack with incredulity.
To act otherwise might expose
A weakness of the heart,
Proving beyond a reasonable doubt
That I am in fact
That hysterical woman
Painted red by tabloids
And stalked by paparazzi
Attempting to get the next big lead
Or headline at the latest foible
In my repertoire.
However,
Perhaps the sincerest of apologies
Strung so delicately as to melt the heart
Or send it into arrest with its sweetness
Might be better served
In my purposes.
Everyone loves a sweetheart
Who knows when she’s done wrong
And will publicly apologize
For what they’ve believed to be true all along.
Even the greatest crook
Can get away with murder
If she smiles nice and talks to the camera.
But who could really blame
For my wanting to fan the flames
That glowed so bright as to keep me awake
All night long
And prevent the sun from rising?
Everyone at heart wants another heart
To have and to hold and unite with their own
Until death
Or statistically likely divorce
Do them part.
Heaven forbid one should actually prove
To be that bandit in the night
To steal a hungry heart
With no intent of return.





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