Hope

Honesty never became me.
It was a veil of its own, and I
used it to the best of my
small, untalented abilities.


Victim this,
Harsh release that.
You take my breath away
and turn it into stone.


I wish, sometimes, that I had
taken more time with the
pleasures of rambling, of
stroking and ripping.


But to tell you that
would be to break
this little connection we seem to have
forged at the last minute.


I've been marinating, or
vascillating, and it's come to
the point of breakage.
Maybe.

Come and get me,
just to prove a point.
The words don't mean much,
I probably won't either.


But do it anyway.