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Britt Kusserow
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Concession
You can walk,
set me on a plane and say goodbye.
It's been done before.
You can talk,
to paint yourself the villain in this lie,
the instrument of war.
But don't let me catch you round here acting like a thief.
Like you took something away from me in panic or relief.
This is hard to say when I am just this side of grief, but I
I believe in you.
You can write
letters that may end up at my door.
I'll read every word.
I may cry,
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but oceans dark with salt still find a shore.
At least that's what I've heard.
So don't let me catch you mixing fear with aftertaste,
poised against sharp suddenness of something drunk in haste.
This is hard to say when I am just this side of grace, but I
I believe in you.
There comes a time, I dare not speak its name,
when the words fall like leaves.
No lies can remain.
So I won't play games.
We will never be the same.
But I believe in you.
I believe in you.
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