As if it had been a dance,
Inhabiting the role and space.
Thus,
The outpouring is allowed to flourish
Entrapping us entirely.

Letting yourself escape for a while
In a story that only you know,
Becoming what you
‘Sort of’ already are,
With a bit of an extension,
Truth refracted,
A hint of embellishment, if you will.

What you realise is
Perhaps,
This is the only way to get what you need?
To keep you safe,
Enliven withering hope.
The landscape of your life,
That journey has so far refused to begin.
So,
What we conjure becomes
The next best thing.

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