I used to soar. Swiftly, softly, sometimes. I used to float. With flexibility. I used to. My wings have been shafted under the wind of disappointment. You. Told me things I believed in love, but belief is a personal problem only to be dealt by self. Fool me once.  No shame.  You ran a game I never knew I was playing. Hurdling over puddles of tears, vaulting in the shadows of 7 (or was it 11) years, I’m out of shape. Breathing deep trying to inhale your peace that I may sleep at night without fighting the demons that enter my dreams reminding me, silently, that no matter how many times you spoke the words, it never would have been me. You loved. Fool me twice. !tfihS. Blame it on me. Shame it on me. Pierce my skin with invisible weapons. Hope and promise and love or. Lust after me, moisten my lips with your kiss that I may only hear your desires, and never see your lies. Pierce my skin with invisible weapons. Hope …