The Quad

My acerbic bluntness outlined your pupils today against a dreary sky,
and I was hesitant to fall into your arms if only because sometimes,
I worry that trust is simply not enough to make you happy with me.

Although I have determined that I am fated to marry camaraderie,
I find myself lacking enough faith to walk under those arches
because that ring encased in brick in the center still ain't enough
to convince me to renew my subscription to a higher presence.

The path I chose for myself has beaten and worn me down
so many times that I am losing my grasp on the comfort of Bible verses,
and redemption is several cancerous wheezes away from the slow drag
of the carcinogens, tar, and chivalry that you offer as comfort
when the rain is torrential outside at four in the morning.

I still find myself terrified of 90 degree angles rigidly inscribed
into concrete bricks that line your conscience and remind you
how your seniors raised you. I still hesitate to step on the cracks,
because childhood adages have become so ingrained in my subconscious
I worry constantly about breaking the backs of the people closest to me.