Faith

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I didn’t think I would ever have faith in anything.
I have seen too many good people in this world, let down and left
on the sidewalk, slowly wilting and wasting away
like chalk when the teacher gets a new whiteboard and
old paperbacks that collect dust on the back of bookshelves.
You said that faith could take many forms. That it was
a child’s mastery a preacher’s salary and a cynic’s enemy,
and that nothing could be done without a little bit of it.
You said that it was inexplicable,
that it was hard to explain to me because it was like
breathing, and sleeping, and hearing your mother’s wise words play in the back of your head
just when you need it most.
You said it was an undying fire, so beautiful and powerful that
you couldn’t help but stare at its flickering flames,
not thinking about the ashes it may one day leave behind or
how unbearable the cold will be when the warmth is stolen from you.
You said it was more powerful than love
and just as human; that at the end of the day, it is even stronger than instinctual lust
because even after it burns out, you are left intoxicated
from the glorious images you have seen
and the fumes you have inhaled.
And when the hour comes, your heart that is caged away
like a convict behind your ribcage and hidden beneath years of scar tissue
is exposed and before you know it
you hurt
and you bleed
and you will swear to yourself that you will never believe in anything ever again
until you realize that even though pretty girls are not always so pretty inside
and that friends don’t always play by the rules,
believing in anything is better than greeting someone you have known far too long with the same
“I’m good, how about you?” that you asked them when you first met.
Everyone is pretending.
Everyone is sick of “Good, everything’s good.”
Everyone is still clinging to Faith.

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