Before she closes her eyes and surrender to slumber,
She wants to hear the words that really matter.
Is he good as a prayer?
Or worst as a nightmare?

And right before his practiced speech,
She saw beads of sweat across his face,
His cheeks flustered.
His eyes cannot look straight into hers,
Like he was caught unguarded by a ghost.

And then he spoke the idioms of the flatterer,
She cringed and cowered.
How can he be different from the others?
Give her a good reason,
Or a sensible answer.

Because as much as she wants to believe in forever,
His confidence is marred by uncertainty.
His promises impaled by inconsistencies.
Should she endure a little longer out of curiosity?
Or move her feet forward to where redemption is as clear as reality?‪#‎rabpedroso‬


A Puzzle and The Old Man’s Cackle