Perhaps you thought

it did not matter

that you changed

a simple no to ru

but all the little deceits

are grand masterpieces

of woven lies

in a name

that should exist

to prove we breathe

freely.

My instincts, my third eye

even if I never knew

it would not bloom

for your walls are

much higher

and magic

is just an illusion

and fantasies

they are just in our mind

and reality

is a misplaced puzzle

with lost pieces

we refuse to search for.

This is how

I shut down

again

revealing

a skin of words

along the inside

of my blood.

I thought

you were

a stone

that I would pick up

and keep in my pocket

or a wave in the ocean

I would let caress me

and the metaphors

never end

yet this poem must

even if it seems obscure

all we have is trust.