I have kissed the lies that you
have whispered in the guise of true love.
It mattered little when your fibs
slipped past my ribs to graze my soul.
For I too was lying with you,
and it was the blissful friction that made
truth out of the fiction of your eager touch.
But it is in the wee hours when you
are lying with another that my breath
is smothered by the absence of what's real.
Then I wallow in the shallowness of what we share,
becoming aware of a cold and bitter puddle of tears.
It is then when I question the reasons
why you give substance to the treason of your heart,
and I script an unheard rant of angry words
that never pass my lips under the spell of you,
as lies become your warm and vibrant flesh
when once again we mesh as questions flee my mind,
on how deceit, could ever be so sweet
and why must it always be so kissable?"
