Andre

Blistering ascentions and cold descents mirror that which I don’t want to see.

You want a bite, a bite of mine. Just a bite, you say. Never ordering your own because your honesty doesn’t always extend as far as it needs to. Are there extension cords for honesty that don’t come with self reflection?

I share because there has always been enough, searching the dark corners when there’s not. What happens to sharing when expectation resides in its place?

Treadmill running, my constant race to catch you. Up hills and down, calories burned, yet still in the same place.

Sparklies sparkle. Will they still shine tomorrow with the hope that springs eternal from the poisoned well? Hope that kills the spirit it has promised to protect?

An uncertain future, Max says. He’ll wait, if its all the same.

The blade grows, you say, once steel touches flesh; didn’t know it was so long or so sharp, didn’t expect your aim to be so true. We chose where to place our expectations. We chose where to place our truth.

And I take it. Gladly at first, knowing that only with the blood of Eden can the garden grow. I bleed now with resignation for what I sought, I have found.

We must not touch our idols; the gilt comes off in our hands.

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