And frankly, for that matter,
I'm tired of wanting to fit into the vision
that others seem to burden us with.

You barely even know me, I
have to look at the screen to summon your name.
But your opinion falls out of your mouth,
like we've been friends for years and
you couldn't wait to share the good news.

I don't like it, any of it,
not because of you, perhaps just a touch,
but because you know nothing about us.
The devil is in the details and,
so is that of the reflection of love.

And now we have the weight of it all on our shoulders,
to carry up the mountain and walk with on the beach.
Hands clasped, or not, the weight is a cloud of expectancy
that lingers over us.
Tainted.