Maybe

Romance is bait, a glinting lure.

In a granite world, no softness anywhere.

Intoxicating ourselves, drunk on daydreams.

Made clumsy and dumb and

sopping wet with endless maybe's.

The potion of possibilities.

Telling ourselves it's the only tonic,

The sole cure for the soul's lament.

Toasting to sweet lies

and swearing that you've never seen

such light in the heart of the ravenous dark.