The contrast of everything in between is filled with shades of gray
Perspective is only one sided.
I hold my breath for the promised.
I wait, I try to focus and then I run.
Creating awkward moments where most would trade places to be.
I run so fast my vision blurs and the air becomes toxic.
Is there something fundamentally wrong with a genuine touch and a soft spoken voice?
I cringe with each delicate graze of my finger tips and the words that fall from their lips.
There is a plague in my mind and a trip in my heartbeat.
I pray this season fails to become what defines me.
Its growing and filled with more pique.
I close my eyes and implore they see.
I lay out my map of honesty.