The Truth.


Do you have a minute?

Do you have the time?

To tell me

What I’m most anxious to hear:

The Truth.

Not the truth that loops wildly around us

Unbeknownst to us

But your piece of it

The piece that you hold,

Only

Solely,

Yours to give

Because it’s your truth

That I ponder

for Days and Days and Days

As I quietly,

count the ways

To make you

Love me

To make you

Feel something

To make you

Confess

That it was always there

Waiting

For me to fill the empty spaces

Left by

the broken pieces

That you still

hold on to

But,

Let’s be honest

Love

Oh, love

Love is a faith

that holds no faith

In me.

One that I, Faithe

have no hopes for

A faith I’ve left

abandoned

And parched

In the desert somewhere

A desert as hot and unbearable

As the fiery furnace

Of hatred

That I hold for you

When you don’t tell me

The Truth.

That I’ve asked for.

Repeatedly.

In not so many words…

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