That Untrustworthy Look

The longer I stared at you, the more I become fearful of that untrustworthy look; your intentions are untruthful and that's the impression I got, unless you return what you took all you promised is still untrue, so don't expect my compassion. I've seen you through a thick blindfold, took to heart all the words you whispered, feeling sure they were sincere, not deceitful but so genuine. The longer I stared at you with magic, the more I became fearful, not confident of that untrustworthy look; I regretted that I mistook trust for love in the rush of things, sharing all the secrets with an unscrupulous fool, not expecting an end so tragic. I agree with friends who were lied to and cried, they took words seriously and let doubt interfere when something looked out of place and concided with the horrendous truth that made fear persevere. The longer I stare at you without resentuful hate, the more I become compassionate... dropping anger and picking up love: that untrustworthy look I'm willing to forgive.