Running away from the real thing,
Into the arms of the flavor of the month.
Leaves an arrow in my heart,
And a brand on my back.
Did I stand too close to the line? Have too much wine?
Or just get caught up in the moment?
Maybe hoodwinked, like stepping into a snare.
The gate of deception is wide, and painted red.
Either way, now a dirty word.
Damaged. Fooled by a thought.
Merely the price of dinner and a movie.
As I run my hand over my life,
All those sharp edges are lies.
They can be smoothed out
By the flow of Living Water.
Come, sit at the edge of the well with Me.
This was from a prompt, through a publishing challenge. I didn't get published, but it was still a great challenge. I wrote through the eyes of the woman at the well, John 4:7-29
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