“Trust me,” he says as she watches green bills dance madcap out the window.
“Trust me,” he smiles as she cringes from the furious collectors who shatter the chilly silence.
“Trust me,” he mumbles around the lavish feast while her belly tightens in fruitless anticipation.
“Trust me,” he laughs as the balloon animals of her dreams scurry past, to be burst with darts of unconcern.
“Trust me,” she hears echoing in the deserted, musty halls of love.
“How can I not,” she says, “when the word is all that’s left.”