M. Aline

Very little words were said

When I stood before you

What sold you were the flecks

Gazing into the windows of my soul

Like emeralds to a magnifying glass

Merely dimples of a story

Fondly nestled in separate chairs

Miles away from one another

Reaching out ignites a deep fear

And my only form of mutual connection is lost

Is it wrong to wonder

If I ever cross your mind

Never do I intentionally become a fool

But I tend to trip my way through life

I now leave my fate in the hands of God

Praying one day you’ll reach out

Tell me that this wasn’t a fever dream

Our words of affirmation

Wasn’t just a strange twist of destiny

Never been that great at deciphering a lover from a friend

That’s what I’ve been working on these days

It seems I’ve been caught in a storm

A haze that hasn’t gone away

Now I’m preparing myself for when the story ends

And I must flip to the next page

Promise me you’ll let God steer the helm of the ship

When the waves become turbulent

But even more so when you believe you’re more turbulent 

Than the waves you’ve set sail on

—M. Aline