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Cursive Lines

Does a hope inscribed
begin with subtle little lines
engraved in shallow letters and hardened dreams
faced with cursive lines and
silent pleasantries

How can a borrowed memory
Become a shadowed past
Fuzzy with details distastefully described
In purgatory of Jacob's Ladder
Worlds collide and clash
and within, I find lies.
When a love letter becomes a complaint
Where two wrongs become a right falls play to
victim and Heavenly Saint
When excuses become statements fallen from the lips
Where complacency holds no wrongs because ultimately
ignorance is bliss
Where entering a home becomes a hostile territory
When opening a lock becomes synonymous with dread
from the flick of a key

Does hope inscribed
begin with subtle little lines
Shaped as certificates that mean nothing
Rings that are not eternal and
dreams that give birth to become woeful funerals
Anniversaries as impending doom
A interruption to something-

A toast to life,
raise your glass
Two young lovers that ultimately clash
Crowd cheers here here
Voices yell and scream
Borrowed memories become forgetful pasts
Suddenly we becomes I
and I am stuck in purgatory?

Did it not start with a simple dream,
my once beautiful reverie
Did it not begin

with a dream?


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