Trust is fickle when a young heart
Has been forged in flame and fear.
Here one day, disappearing the next
With no trace of explanation in sight
For either the trusted or the trustful.
Too many questions linger on in depths
Of emotional insecurity to irrevocably still
The rapid movement of misguided mistrust,
No matter how desperately that frail heart yearns
For the touch of life-changing love everlasting.
A world of torment is the only reality
Worthy of trust to a heart torn apart.
The sun may brighten your day, but
It will burn you as you bask in its warmth.
Alone, no expectations, is its solitary sanctuary.
Nothing can fix a heart broken by trust.
Scars forever marking the soul as victim.
But Pandora’s gift keeps us going, determined
To mend a broken spirit with pure trust, to build up
A frail heart to more than it could imagine for itself.