I meet you in a world, where words they weigh like air.

You hide behind a logline with that long lost terror stare.

You make it so all inviting, its familiar to the bone.

But it smells of desperation, and looks so all alone.

You say that you want honest but in this you’re not as sure.

Cause that ones gonna cut both ways and you’re so far from pure.

I’m not in love, I used to be. I’ve risen past the glare.

Something to get accustomed to, and it seems so far from fair.

Dennis Mantin