The lies we tell each other strand us
to live out what each other perceives;
I am old and afraid of falling
in love, afraid of fooling myself
yet again. Fear, a faithful companion,
hovers about my decisions like air.
I take a familiar breath and sigh;
where in this miasma exists any hope?
Before I can even speak of conciliation,
as if I could trust myself for an answer,
I first must strain out the duplicitous
viewpoints between which I hide myself
since self-serving rationales fall like hail
pummeling my soul with a vacuous unction.
(October 2010)
subtext 