Under the guise of searching,
a soul shatters,
a mind maneuvers.
It appears self-seeking, but it’s seeking self.
I’m sorry never illuminates
the path to feel whole.
Love, you are enough
to quell the rifling.
A flair of paucity halts the course,
doubling secrets under slipshod lips,
shrouding the truth from desperate eyes.
Life plods on,
and with the empty ache ostensibly filled,
the helm is released.