Trust Me

Trust me
Two simple words.
But my dearest, it's not for you.
I feel the paper, treacherous in my hands.
I ache to open such a treasure,
a dangerous, destructive hoard.

The rope around your walking stick twists like a snake,
hissing at my lies, ready to strike.
Dear heart, the hunt will not wait.
The fox slinks in the shadows, hiding,
but will inevitably be discovered, chased,
pounced upon.
The truth will be shaken out and the fox destroyed.
It is only a matter of time.

Your eagle eye tries to read my soul,
very well,
just leave my heart unread ' it is better thus.
You extend your hand, waiting.
The envelope bends slightly between my tense fingertips.
Again you say
Trust me.