Heart Broke Inn
Room 22. Another sleepless night. A half empty bottle of booze. Broken strings on my guitar. And notes. Lots and lots of notes scattered across the room like broken glass. On coasters and napkins, on post-it's, on a torn piece of the cover of the yellow pages. Guts laid out on the table. This is the beginning of the end. Or is it the end of the beginning? Somewhere another lonely heart waits. They know the same all too well. We are meant to be one, to heal each other, but we must find each other first. I gather my things. I gather the notes that will become these new songs. I gather myself, check-outs at noon. Everyone sleeps better once they leave the Heart Broke Inn.