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"The Poison of Expectation"
by Jeph Johnson
It's only after uncanny eye-rolling events coalesce in tragedy and misfortune compounds in absurd coincidence that I remember how toxic hopefulness is.
Despair is a virus that permeates my shell; weakening my resolve to resume.
If I remind myself to trust no longer in anyone's integrity or have faith in anything good happening again, I'm okay for a spell.
At least until another is cast and enchantment again enraptures all reality.
Certainty is sorcery and the only thing magical.
Though guarding my heart is what seems the most tactical.
Believing in love is therefore impractical
