Marooned just south the tropic of Cancer

Humid Summer Night - stranded in a foreign land.
No language, no money, no idea, not even the inklings of a plan..

I think of you I need to at least hear your voice - to give me solace -
hearing the love in your voice will keep hope alive - That this is just another adventure, another ordeal too, I will prevail, I will survive.

Hope

With my last dime I dial your name.
You answer - but with that voice - you know...
The one where you're horizontal but not alone.

Knowledge of betrayal always tells in its tone.
Points for trying though, I'll give you that -
But awkward phrases, hushed tones, noticeable pauses -
your voice is flat on the phone...

My last hope sinks and runs down my cheeks as perspiration...
But what about my defenses? I'm impenetrable, invulnerable, invincible.

How did love get this deep inside of me?

You wound me as only a parent could...

I've long since lost the ability to cry - which is worse - because no one would notice boiling in 98 degree heat and breathing 100% humid air...

Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur
(We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving. (Syrus)