“Be honest with me,”
she lies;
her expectations higher than
I could ever reach.
Tact versus truth;
to tell what is, rather
than what she’d prefer, would
be a shovel of my own devising.
Save her feelings and
avoid another fight, or
foster conflict for the sake of
catharsis.
The thing of it is
I can’t even distinguish between
what’s real or fantasy anymore;
truthfully, I stopped trying
a while ago.
by Erik Shinker
Ours may not converge, but
we are each given one to walk;
patchwork wanderers lost in
their own way.
Some go hand-in-hand, while
others pad along
alone.
It comes easily for some,
something more like labor for most,
and even still there are those oblivious to
the universe’s guiding hand.
Buffeted between invisible walls;
yet,
how could I complain?
There is no other path to tread.
Even if an alternative existed,
would I truly trust to
something so significant?
by Erik Shinker
