It is a double-sided cross that gathers in my heart.
It is neither here.
Yet, it is everywhere.
I try to smooth it over with words…
But the words do not come out right.
with every inaction…
A splintered reaction.
Volatility, plus, age.
Makes the rising waters more difficult to bare.
Allowing for indiscretions.
A dress I prefer not to wear.
Sometimes, it is in the coveting of a curtain.
In cluttered entrances…
With pathways, nothing but uncertain.
Not so strange.
These crowded houses.
Beholding a double-sided cross.
Moderate on the outside.
Not a glimpse to be caught.