Hope

When you ask where you're going and just don't know

Hope is always the last thing to go.

When, or because, you lose everything else

It's hard to picture a partner when you see yourself,

So hope dies strangled, too weak to cry,

Too close to the bottom to look at the sky.

When you're comfortable, when life feels like home,

Hope might as well be the first thing to go.

Situated so well, why take a vacation,

Leave reality to take tours of expectations?

Hope dies noiseless, to the sound of life's breathing,

Too close to the top to find reason in leaving.