Trust, when considered fully, is strange.
And all those who trust fully - think deranged.
He thinks that she cares
about his hot solar flares
that shoot off particles of light
and pull her down, magnetically, mid-flight.
Straight down
to the ground—
or perhaps the sea…
where she’ll drown gracefully
beneath the burden of trust.

Unbolt this cursed door. I say,
Unchain this changing lock.
Take the mirrors from the Window -
I think I can fill that spot

Between your lines of Paradise -
Within the ripples of the pond,
To depths - I dream - to reach,
Create Internalizing bonds

Between the one I used to be
And what he may become
Laced together presently -
Three (or four) turn One.