
It wasn’t so much that he dashed her hope against the rocks,
 Or let her down with a bunch of forget-me-nots,
 He didn’t make promises formed of smoke and mist,
 Or seal false hopes with secret kiss.
 He just made her feel that she was okay
 Just as she was: no grand things to say.
 No changes to make, no acts to put on,
 No fearing that somehow she’d get something wrong.
 And the moment hope decided to rear its meek head
 The truth came out. Hope once again dead.
 Sometimes, it’s harder to climb out
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        Published on July 31, 2020 12:00