I pulled the moon from my pocket
and dropped it into the sky, eager eyed,
like the coin slot of a gum ball machine.

It gave me one star
but that wasn’t enough.
My hands are much bigger these days.
So I stood and waited,
for that moment when the rise of the sun would come to meet the fall of moon,
but that never happened.

I was told that the deepest truths,
could only be poems,
could only be tasted.

And the truth in truth,
is that words have no truth.

So I curled my tongue
around the fingers of a pen
and wrote out every lie I’ve ever heard.

I drew my own words.
Straight from the wrench of my own mouth.

I drew your face.
I wrote on it all the words that betrayed it.

This was the first time
I could recall my feet reaching the floor
from high up on the pews,
and I stood,
and I walked right out of that church.

Because the truth in truth,
is that all words are lies
and you hold a book full of them.

So I tied knots around my wrists
to know what chains were like.

And I licked a bathroom floor once
and it didn’t taste so good,
but it tasted exactly how I knew it would

Unlike the taste of saying thank you,
when someone hands you that gift,
You... Never wanted.

Or the taste of that gagging
l-l-l-l-love,
To someone who cut all the ribbons from your hair.