I am the truth hiding behind your lies,
the joke that pounds like dynamite in your skull,
the whispered presence that calls for salvation,
the darkened eyes of the boy next door who looks

so haunted.

I am the truth,
hiding within your smile,
within the
flecks of gold
and sparkles
in your eyes,
the smile that
never ceases
and
never stops,
the smile that
makes me
wonder what is

real enough.

I am the vaulted raindrop that hangs in your hair,
I cling to you, so tightly, my arms around your chest,
my cheekbone rests gentle on your
morning wrinkles
the eyes that do not wish
to open
the sleep that
makes you
frown
a worker's
grimace,
the drop that
adds to
your wrinkles
to your
sopping
hair that
never seems
to dry,
I stare from above your mountain,
taking vantage of your morning route,
listening to the
whispers
which you
brush to the side

they're not real.