i pray that you prove me wrong.
i hate being wrong.
but what you have,
behind your metallic smile,
is stronger than my impulses to
always be proven correct.
please prove me wrong.
i do trust you, believe me, i do,
but it’s his soul that beat you black and blue.... darling,
he gave you that bruise upon your arm,
and you let him bandage the marks
with a piece of scotch tape so
please my love, know that it is not you, but it is him that i do not trust. And if i’m standing by you, dressed in that dove colored fabric as you approach him with tears on your plush cheeks, i will smile, as you proved me wrong. I pray that you prove me wrong.