That slippery thing called The Truth.
Who’s truth you ask?
Your truth or mine?
That slippery of slippery Jester.
The one that hides in your bedside table?
The one that you delete?
The one you post?
Your feeling well hidden or the ones that you show.
The slight smile is the truth maybe?
Maybe the meaning behind your intention is the truth.
Or is it the sunshine and the blue sky?
The truth lies somewhere between a touch of a hand, an honest question with an honest intention.
Love without expectation is perhaps the truth.
With that, there is no attachment or deceit of any kind.
Its the truth that one wears whether seen or hidden hugging the
curves.
Its yours.