Title: Trust

 

My thoughts are held in a box

with such a strong lock that the

only way to break through would be —

no, impossible.

 

Unless one were to blow away an eyelash

into a perfectly straight line, or able to recover

wholly a butterfly’s broken wing.

 

If a bread could rise with the

right amount of cinnamon and butter —

oh what a relative measure.

No, impossible.

 

Perhaps if one could hug me fully without

a single touch, or make language understood

no matter the ear or tongue but, those

are hard-to-reach ideals.

Nay, impossible.

 

My heart is guarded in a room with

choice foods and top-notch security, and

the only way to enter is

for one to withdraw their own walls

to tell the whole truth.

I would say it’s been achieved, but —

no, impossible.