Trust Me

Trust me, he said

In the middle of a mangled breathe He said

Trust me

What else could you possibly do when someone gives you a hand and it’s all you’ve ever wanted

He said trust me

the first time I didn’t

I had this feeling, but even without any rhyme or reason I said

I trust him

And the word gets all used and abused and the meaning becomes more of a plea than a promise it becomes a don’t leave me

Or a tell me you see me

And then we are just this great divide

Standing on the same street on different sides

Still saying trust me as we go our separate ways

Still making weak promises for better days.

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Divide

A Short Conversation is a collection of stories, thoughts, and general musing. I like to write like I'm slamming a door; loudly, and with purpose.

17 Comment on “Trust Me

  1. Pingback: Divide | My Kaleidoscope

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