She speaks her story with blurred eyes
Scars of yesterday still have measure in the mind
they still run deep on the soul.
Her broken smile tells me how badly she wants people to stop hurting each other
She just wants them to be kind to one another.
She shares her curly fries and shifts her weight to the side
"Why can't people just be honest" she laments.
I'm drinking in the totality of the bartender
Her whiskey colored hair and her sparkling brown eyes.
She holds herself devoid of idealism nor delusion
She holds herself with a broken sense of hope.
She's a mess of sex and desire,
of pain and fire,
and I'm quietly assessing how flammable I am.
The ascriptions of nobility and godliness are barely legible in the rusted armor of an aging tired soldier.
I'm attuned to the magnitude of my vulnerabilities.
My weaknesses beating louder than the bass drums on the karaoke machine.
Im pouring down poisons of flesh and soul.
Why can't people just be honest?
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