Truth, what a flighty tempest,
what a silent storm.
How strange it is to speak it,
feel its mark on your tongue,
the metallic taste in your throat.

Mine has always been a silent world,
So words have not been easy,
some words have been easy,
greasy as words.

As another lie,
slips between my lips,
soft as a breath of wind.

And I have denied, and then denied
that I denied.
I have invented myself,
so many times,
so that others would believe.

They would think
that I was who they thought I was, and I suppose,
so that I, too, would believe.
And also for
no
particular
reason
I have lied, and that is
the truth.

She's begging to me
through rattling teeth
and broken bones
made of ash.

Her body quivers
as cold wet hair
sticks to her skin.

She is begging for mercy
Dare I deny her of it?

What happened to those
beautiful days?

Even though I know the answer
but my heart keeps denying
that painful phase;

They say the more you try to deny something
The stronger it becomes

Maybe its true
Because the more I try to deny it
The more I fall in love with you

catch feelings
for cute girls,
pretty boys.

fall in love.

deny it.

let them hurt you.
hurt yourself, mostly.

get yourself together,
bring yourself back up.

but **** he's pretty.

May be forget the mouth
But how can I deny the heart?

At your denial you were at your creative all-time-best as you added vivid detail that distracted and buried the facts beneath a story that captured our imagination rather than releasing the truth of the situation and risking the shame of a truer declaration lying a few lines beneath your masterly woven but ultimately deceptive late night conversation.
And you left us none the wiser.