My lips have been kissed by the white lies
etched on the back of my eyelids.

Even the lulling tendrils sleep cannot blank it out.

I see it every single time the time strikes midnight.
Slowly but surely it mingles into my very fingertips.

Filling the empty space in me.
Which is everywhere.

If I said: " No, I am not cracked, bruised
and
that
my very soul hasn't been diluted by the bittersweet goodbye from your lips to mine.

White lie 1.

When your footsteps walked away, mine wasn't hesitating, cold and lost.

White lie 2.

If I said I didn't pray for rain, so my tears will meet their own.

White lie 3.

And above all,

If I ever say
" I didn't love him with every breath I have taken and will take in this universe that doesn't quite feel that starry and vast anymore."

Sweet heart, that is
white lie
∞
.