Frustration

we were trying so hard

From bed rising, you sit staring into,
Willing answers, from your ring stained coffee mug.

Winter granite eyes, lifeless drooping mouth,
Shoulders fallen in defeat, and that hand;
Shaking, always shaking.  Catching the
Attention of everyone except you.

Finally, a drama loaded question:
Hope?
Is there any for us?
I think you already know.
Or why would you ask?

Should I decide for you, us?
Dictate our path??
Am I honest,
or kind,
Or both?

Your questions cannot be answered
In terms of black and white.
Our feelings aren't categorized
By wrong or right.
How about.....maybe?

Some flexibility would be such a relief.