I ride a tight rope.
Walking the hot coals, treading on egg shells
I have burned bridges too; what with this inability to take risks
the melt of resistance, is only temporary after all
sizzling exchanges, I like, but it depends on the fire we’re funneling and channeling
the eyes, they rouse the embers, and exorcise long forgotten demands
smells and sounds of country only do to birth beautiful dreams
I refuse to hope this time, because that is a little too much
But hope I hold with a firm grip, I am desperate to hope but only for truth.
I am both winner and loser, being I cannot escape myself, but with this knowledge I live.