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Through his door she wafts, all eye candy and cigarette smoke. Feigning fear and need with a promise of earthly delights in trade. He, standing strongly alone, listens attentively but always sees more than is shown. Seemingly he melts in her warm, feminine hands, to be molded into someone more useful but easily discarded. Each play their games, vying for goals not perceived by the other. The hand may be more swift than the eye, but the heart… the heart is always quicker still. In the end, neither gains what they search for but both receive more than anticipated.

There can be no trust
‘Tween those who routinely lie
And those who seek truth.


5/3/2019
Pick A Title, Vol 4 - Haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh

4th Place winner 5/24/19

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