Gideon

Gideon talks to me in lies
he calls me his “angel”
his “saving grace”
he thinks he can superimpose
his god over mine
making the distinction between the two
grey

Gideon says he just wants
me to see
the world through his eyes
to feel
his wonderment at everything that surrounds him

I tell him that awe can’t be fed
into a shut mouth.
it's then he grows tired of the argument
for the twenty-sixth time that day
and retreats his eyes to the dish towel,
the windowsill
or toward his Heaven

Gideon says he lives his life
by the prophecies
and I live mine
by song lyrics and movie lines.
to each his own is all I can utter
to the disdain in his face
pouring over me with the spite
of the Benevolent
upon Judas or Lucifer.

singed wings

with burn scars
still tracing my shoulder blades
and Gideon’s cooling kisses
placed roughly
upon my beaten forehead
I fall
to my knees
succumbing to misconception
content to hide
under my shield
of stretched truths
to please the disapproving glares.

I blind myself for Gideon
proving my misled love
to be something within the realm
of reality
show him I care
quaking in pain

hidden beneath all the lies