I don't like to lie,
and I'll be the first to tell you that.

It's just something about fabricating a memory in someone else's mind that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

All that I can liken it to is,
stepping into another person's brain
and smacking everything until it rearranges into the way that I want it to be.

But, does it ever stop me?
No.

It never stops me from telling someone
to have a lovely day,
that I'm honestly not judging every word they've said so far.

It hasn't stopped me from telling him
I love him too.  

It's like a broken faucet that I can't shut off,
I mumble the words without an ounce of consideration
for the weight he holds them to be.

But those are little white lies, right?
They're designed to make the other person feel better
and sometimes people need a lie to feel better.

So I tell myself, it's okay.
He needs this.

Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?