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Trust

Andrea Chancey

This is not a poem about trust
Nor a poem about faith and reliance
Today, I hang my head with shame
Shame       for allowing you in my life
Every text, every email you sent out
As the pollution over my heart, my mind
Life        once – so easy and enjoyable
Now, hard, and dreadful living paycheck to paycheck
— Text that now mean nothing
I feel foolish for ever meeting you.

This is not a poem about trust,
Rather it may be, I write about deceiving
Deception is a man that has many names
A man who only thinks about himself
Annoyingly, he texts every day asking for something new
Texting and texting,
For the predator to pray on the prey until I give in
I am no longer who I used to be, but a shell

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