~

Abraham Lincoln used to lie.
So did my mother.
 
Remember that time when we were little? The night we wrote our names on the sidewalk with the guts of a thousand mashed-up fireflies?  I asked.  The night the birds and their babies forgot to sleep? The night we felt free because we had nothing left to burn? Do you remember the way the sunrise dribbled over the horizon and leaked into our tattered converse sneakers?
 
As soon as you said Yes
I knew you were a liar too
 Because 
I made that memory up.
 
When you run your gritty hands through my hair, is that a lie too? I bet you’re just pretending when you put my head on our chest and breathe slowly so I’ll sleep sounder.   I know the stale sweat sitting on our skin isn’t real. I guess it doesn’t matter.  Because
 
One hundred years
is just a gasp
and a
breath
 
And you make me gasp every time I let you lie with me. I pant and heave and choke as your stories wiggle their way across my tongue and stick to the inside of my throat. And by then the truth doesn’t matter. You’re either a memory or a mirage or a dream and I don’t care. All I need are those 

Goose Bumps 
you leave scattered 
across 
my 
sheets.

It sweeps you away
you say no no no
don't take me today
but love takes its toll

and she looks in your eyes
and she says it's alright
but you'll know all her lies
by the dawn's lonely light

her love's so expensive
tho you don't get to buy
your thoughts always pensive
no you never deny

saw her tracks turn to black
see her trail in the snow
say she's not coming back
left you begging to know

why love's so expensive
put your cigarette out
stop being so pensive
and living in doubt


©2003 Lyn

He passed by in the mirror
and never
recognised
me