The Object

All of the obvious clarities escape me.

I bridle the fence with mind in one hand and heart in the other.
The balancing act... The waiting game.

The rumors swirl around my head and I see with my eyes something that brings regret.
My eyes whisper to my mind and say, "Run".

My heart whispers to my soul and my soul comforts me because my love is not superficial.
Instead, I could lose limb, and lust, and face value and life to protect the object of my desire.

I love it. For a long time I have protected it and loved it.
The moment I met it, from the first conversation I knew that walking away would never be easy.

I prayed for it to be removed and I hope that my heart would be soothed so I hid it, hoping that no one would discover my bruise.

Even when it broke my heart and even when my life fell apart, I knew that I had to be still.
I swoon and I stare deep into its face, wishing for another time and place, for I know that it does belong to me.

My strength is of my past and my sanity is withering fast, for what I have beheld with my eyes.
My soul is attached...no one has ever matched the depth in which my object holds.

It has always been so very easy to walk away, but my feet won't move, and my body stays. I know that at the core I am a fool.

I brave the lies and continue to mask my cries hoping one day the object will behold the beauty and the loyalty that is mine.

VT Willi