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Betrayed, Betrayer.
There is no fault in Desire.
There is only fire

that burns away what
you would hold against the heart.
A place to keep Blame

from knocking on the
door, banging Doubt from the wood.
Never tentative.

Always certain is
Fear. Louder still, the voice of
Regret in your ear.

Hungry mosquito,
stealing Honesty, eating
Surety only

sensible recourse
being: Sell the Dream. Buy a
flame retardant heart.

Shiver your timbers.
Kiss the Dark left over by
Light, you used to want.

Make Love to shadows.
Thinking they'll disappear when
you turn the lights on.

Old, new, borrowed. Blue.
Wreckless Disappointment is
your namesake calling,

"Is there any Truth
left in you? Does the face you
wear belong to you?"

A man, made monkey
by a woman, woman made
monkey by a man

Care for what is left
of you, more than what was lost.
Do not fault Desire.

For the fire that burned
your house down to the ground, it
was Human Nature -

In the blue bedroom,
with the silver candlestick.
Motive? Still unknown.

Which of these weighs more:
Experience or Instinct?
Both less than Belief.

You come from a land
of Ash, Midas in reverse.
But I believe, still.

I'll forgive you these
things you have done that Shame you.
I will absolve you.

I will Bless your bed,
parting like Holy waters.
You'll see Redeemed. One

day, washed clean by Faith.
Tried by Fire. Snapped free like a
sheet from a clothesline.

(Betrayer Desire Blame Doubt Fear Regret Honesty Surety Dream Dark Light Love Blue Disappointment Truth Human Nature Motive Experience Instinct Belief Ash Shame Bless Holy Redeemed Faith Fire)

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