i found a path, the last moonlit night, and wandered, and
thought maybe if i held that course--
if i held, stem and stern, onto the steering wheel--
i could chart that smooth, paved track. but you laughed at me and
said i could never be anything i am not.
it doesn't sting any more.
often the harshest words are the truest, and our trust is
enough to make me true to you.
it means less than it should; some nights, though, i
would move heaven, shift mountains, say anything,
be pretty or quiet or tame if only my dreams would come
true.