Disaster on the mountain top
waiting patiently to fall back down.
Roll over me, consume my limbs
and shower me with obliterated hope.
She says unfaithful, he says to trust.
Who I shall believe is yet to be found
but here I sit thinking it over and over,
anxious for what I'm ignoring.
What I wouldn't give to be bulletproof,
a shatterproof proof of proof itself
surviving the onslaught of jealous women
and wandering-eyed men.
Wait and see, time will tell, and other clichés
will not sedate my thirst for what I don't know
despite my fear of knowing it
as it sits on the mountain, looming.