I will ride:a poem.

You bid our love be slow,
Measured.

A thousand hopes come
Galloping
Up to the gate

A beginning.
And then, too soon,
An end.

What's this? A mask.
A pretense.
A game.

The truth, my almost love: a lie.

For another love
to you
is true.

Lies of omission
Are still lies.

The gate locks.

But hear me
When I say:
Hope will return.

And I will ride. Watch
Me, or don't,

But I will ride.