If I put on a mask would you love me again.
If I made myself up,
Tore the muscles on my bones,
Went to a meditation retreat,
Started seeing a therapist,
Looked at life with a positive perspective.

Would you?

Have you ever,
Put a box fan in your window?
Felt the breeze of its humm pass your cheek?

Seen the shadows of the world's spin through its twisting blades?
Smelt the morning dew in its air?

No.
You haven't.
You can't.

The box fan, flickers the light of the window.
The window that lets you see the world.
It waters your eyes, blurring the view.
It hides it's consumption in its comfortable wind.
Pushing the truth away.

So, you can't have seen a box fan, you see.
For a mear 'box fan' is always fleeting,
Hiding itself,
In the lie you told yourself.

The Gavel has sounded.
Yet as you realize the gravity of your situation.
you feel no guilt, your heart is not heavy.
Time will only bring on this emotion, slowly.
Slowly thoughts will wander, and now the situation is more than the past. Its reality.
Never was a vow broken, for your heart was righteous. Until a dread came crashing in.
Too sudden, reality seems a dream. Your heart - prior situation - is jagged, cracked as a felled mirror. Now, future holds your destiny, and uncertainty, an old friend, appears.
Time and destiny, twisting in serenity, you dive into the situation.
And now, the act is complete.
Jagged heart, blood along its edges, hands across your chest, in attempt to slow the wound.
But the dread has done its deed, she wont revoke her word.
You had been left, heart hurting, words churning, and now you have a truth you need to speak. For you are not the condemned, not for the actions you took.
But dread has done its deed. And as she hears your words, the confusion clashes with certainty. You forsake dread, binding yourself to another, that is what dread will think. But you are not the guilty party. For long before, you had been left, heart hurting, words churning, and with beloved dread turning away, leaving you to weep.