Hope and Despair,

Solitaires aglow with flare.

An odd questionable friendship.

Valuable nonetheless.

And so what of it—

The strain between us two?

Friendships are one-sided,

Often the one will have no clue.

Despair sits on its derrière, grunting

And happy is Hope hunting—hard at play.

Holding hands, we both begin instructing.

No fake friendship, our act a fine display.

Stark can be our difference.

Trust can be our reference.

Neither party would exist

Without a blip.

Our sodality is crystal clear

It binds our hearts and soothes for weeks

And wipes our ‘half glass empty’ tears

From blotchy lacquered cheeks.

We see and mask ourselves with paint

But you, I know your flush,

I’m gagged—you wink at my restraint

When I bow to your low hush

You, are my constant.

You cradle my despair

And kick to curb its laughter

‘Til hope becomes its heir…

It’s not our incompatibilities, that sting

it is any InConSiStEncy.