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To the ever-winding road we go.
Sleek, stainless-steel strings of tightrope line the road.
Wooden barrels thrown to cartwheel over.
Yet another obstacle to show our faults.
We have little stability,
But we continue to thrive on.
Rumor is love is a tie to be reckoned with.
Such a strong, tangled bond it knits.
What happens when the knot loosens?
Do the strings fall to the ground limp?
Or do they defy gravity and become stiff?
I hold so tentatively to the idea of you.
Behind the heavenly facade,
There is nothing but a tattered sham.
One flicker of a black-lashing tongue,
Waves of past destruction come to a boil
To crash over me until my skin bubbles.
I can never tell you this as long as I'm here;
I need a pillow to rest pounding head.
Courage one day will devour my fear
And light the fire in my eyes to burn you alive.
But for now,
I'll stay on this ever-winding road,
Shine this tightrope with my dirty rag,
And pull the splinters from our hands.




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