I could not know what lies behind the pretense but truth wrapped in lies and deception.

I falter - a misstep. Only the piercing cold light of the stars above to witness. Trying my best to place one foot reassuringly in front of the other while on stilts.

I surrender, shiver, despite the heat from a memory ago. The nights are unforgiving. Holding onto a resolve that threatens to fracture with each pin-point needle inflection. What is there to do but nurse the invisible, minuscule wounds? I'll keep them to myself until Apollo's glorious chariot sears the heaven. Then, not one will know whether it is tears or dew that the trail and lonely savor on the tip of my tongue.