Lerianna

I'm on my eight of nine. I prayed for something different, something new. But the universe, indifferent, said There is no Hope for you. I had to find my hope glimmering in the reflection of a rich man's shoes. It stared at me, black, and I reached. He walked away before I could steal the hope that he was walking on. I had to find my hope in cigarette smiles on the corner lot. Breaking on benches for 3 AM lunches, and I reached. They went back to work before I could steal the hope that they were sitting on. I had to find my hope in the creases of a hooker's eyes. Blind. But she could see the dollar bills in hands of rich men and 3 A

My sanity dives purposefully below and I struggle to grasp that your love is still the same, regardless. Unchanged. Words woven into refrain. Despite my attempts to blame you for my own shortcomings, you whisper in my ear tough love that sounds like homecomings and sweet nothings around the bend. I'm not fine, now. But I'll be fine, then. Around the bend there's always light, undefined and redefined. Self-confined. Sometimes I can never see it, but I self-blind, so I can't see a thing. I am but a grain of sand, existing until I choose to walk a real mile in my own sneakers like the truth hounds and the light seekers