trust

you ask me to define trust and my busy factory of a mind goes entirely blank i guess for me trust has always been a word that resides between two quotation marks a concept that rests on fast sinking quicksand or is like etchings in the sand near the ocean: constantly waiting to be swept away and, overall, wiped clean. i want to tell you that my definition of trust is not unlike websters and is, in fact, ingrained in strength and in reliability and in truth but my trust has always been both intense and fleeting, all at once for I’ve spent my entire life shoplifting trust: you hide it away in your pocket and pray fucking pray that the alarms don’t sound that they cant come and search in your pockets and in your bags in all the places that youve learned make wonderful hiding places and you pray that nobody can take your trust because, god forbid they do, they might bury it in the back yard or toss it into the sea claiming it to be a object of little to no worth for what they once thought was precious and valuable was worth no more than pebbles dipped in golden paint and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream because so much of my life has been based off of a concept that I can’t even confidently define