It is a double-sided cross that gathers in my heart.

It is neither here.

Nor…there.

Yet, it is everywhere.

I try to smooth it over with words…

But the words do not come out right.

And,

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.

Temperamental residents…

Moderate on the outside.

Not a glimpse to be caught.

Inside, a succubus shrine that runs hot.

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