It’s not the destination, it’s the journey

Those eyes, staring back at me
Expectant and hopeful
Waiting and wishing for the words I can’t speak

Not with any sort of honesty.

So, I stare at my hands, the wall, the floor,
Your half-hearted smile,
And listen for a voice of reason
To echo through the chaos

Like Circe
Telling me which way to go
But, its like choosing between Charybdis and Scylla
And finding the lesser evil

Either way, I lose.

Now it just becomes a matter of what,
And how much it’s worth
To find my way through the wreckage
Hoping for that proverbial happy ending

But they never seem to get around
To putting it in writing.

Maybe all those pretty Sirens
Would have been the better option
All along.

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