If trust is our house, then why am I lost
wandering in circles, unable to see?
I know you’re in there, waiting for us
sitting alone on that bench, wondering its cost.
But I can’t find my entrance, let alone the key.
I think I’ve been in there, warm by your fire.
Flickering light held me, mauve drapes closed us in.
I felt safe in your arms, restless soul was laid fallow.
Now I’m untethered and wet, slogging through mire.
If only I could find my way back to that comfortable skin.