Trust is weightless and yet people cannot bear it. They leave it on their
backdoor, hoping that someone will carry it off in the night or that it
will leave of its own accord. Our trust, always bruised, and yet we send
it off again because even we don't want it. There is something brutal in
trusting someone. It is like coercion. It is like being forced open, something
tearing, gone. We think a pearl is embedded in the flesh. A large pink conch
pearl embedded in the orangish skin---large as a golf ball. The pearl---any
pearl ----is only a scar, healed over. Even our scars have a shine to them.
We want the shine without the scar. The love without the trust. Living in
a hot climate, dreaming of a slab of ice that does not melt.
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