Of all the games
we learned to play
with jokes, with rules,
with risk and trust
we never chose
to lie.
But then you did.
And nothing
held.
No knot was tight,
no safe word sure,
no breath between us
true.
A whispered “yes”
became a guess,
and touch
a kind of theft.
Now every scene
rewinds itself,
the lines we drew
blurred…
For once a lie
slips past the lips,
nothing
truly grips.
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 3:39 AM UTC
Of all the games
we learned to play
with jokes, with rules,
with risk and trust
we never chose
to lie.
But then you did.
And nothing
held.
No knot was tight,
no safe word sure,
no breath between us
true.
A whispered “yes”
became a guess,
and touch
a kind of theft.
Now every scene
rewinds itself,
the lines we drew
blurred…
For once a lie
slips past the lips,
nothing
truly grips.
Some wounds don’t bruise. They whisper. A single lie can unravel what a thousand touches built.
Request permission to use this poem