"Give me your hand so that I can betray your trust," she says

I see faces taking space on the subway with little to express but
Boredom. Winter does more than dry the skin to emptiness,
Endless rest of the mind, the spirit and all that withstands the
hallowed tunnels where we hide until its warm
again.

Where dancing harps on acceptance, and
optimism trods upon doubt.
The masks we wear until we cannot tolerate each other
again.

The colors gone west with the Sun.