The Saga of Trust

Living in the fear of loneliness,
a black wall compressing itself inward.
Your voice calls out and tells me this ‘truth’,
but I’m too obsessed to believe it so.
The bottle of this water freezes over as I sit,
thinking of you and all of these promises,
laid out like a deck of cards with both red and black suits-
the colors never matter, only their faces.

A worry tremor can be heard through the phone,
the dial tones become annoying after a few minutes.
This is the saga of somebody who is caught
between her sanity and the love she feels,
What good is a life when you are running around
never knowing what is real and what is not?

I am here in this same old room
patted down with strange bright lights,
it’s like an interrogation of the soul
Resided on by yours truly and the other lovers.
Of all the stables in my life I choose to lean on you,
a thicket of wheat tumbling with no direction in these winds.

Fly solo instead of flying haywire.

Is that really so? I have learned again;
It is my own inability to trust that holds me back,
holds back the ability to feel perfectly okay.
I should take your word for it and everything else,
have faith in this humanity I keep trying to save,
Maybe then one day they will start to have faith in me.

I have come to these mere conclusions,
that life is better lived in honesty
So at first believe that all whom you encounter are honest.
Simple?
I will no longer question but feel comforted with your answers.
This is my saga, care to join in?

A certain film entices the damaged, the lost,
the wounded of what is in your head
(a twisted image between these walls,
painted cleverly by your rivals).
I will sit and watch with the clocks ticking by,
holding your hand like a runaway child,
For being here is better than on the other side of you.