Someone said that the trouble with people who mean everything they say is that they think everyone else does, too. The man or woman or mama or granddaddy who said that, must have known that I would read those words one day and see myself. I tell you, it's like ice water down your back in November when someone, something, some words decide to open your cotton-candied eyes, all stuck together with rose-colored sugar, to make you see the bitter world you've been standing in the whole time. You didn't know. Didn't even suspect that that rose bush was poison ivy. You watered it and sang to it, like a rose bush. Pulled spider webs from it and danced before it like, a rose bush. It even smelled like one. Maybe you wanted it to.
Mhm.
But child, ain't nobody gon' bless your silly little heart for the wanting. That's just gullible. And no one has sympathy or ointment for gullibility.
Beautiful writing, as always. You really can capture a thought or idea and make prose sing like poetry.
ReplyDeleteSometimes rose colored glasses provide us the glory we need when there is evil all around.