The world is not as it seems.
Well my world, anyway, is not as it should be.
There were promises made in the recesses of my heart.
Promises of love and laughter spoken with a tongue that knew only lies.
A tounge that had the power to shrink a man.
To deconstruct me with such finesse that the fractures that were pulling me apart,
Were seen by the world as the glue that bound me.
But as I broke more.
As the pieces of me became so small.
I could escape through the webbing of her spinster fingers.
So I escaped.
But I couldn't run.
Stuck in place by the weight of what had always been.
But then a way was felt.
My heart was brushed by a sweet southern breeze.
And finally the energy of hope started to ignite me.
Like I never knew that a person could be.
Like I was supposed to be.
Finally I had hopes for me.
I guess what I'm saying is,
I have hopes for we.
© WayneS