when i was nine my mother told me
that i was a bad liar when she caught me taking spare change from her purse,
and shaking my head repeatedly
when she asked me if i did so.

she told me that again when i was fifteen
seeing the cigarette pack i’ve forgotten in the leather bag i brought everywhere on all those nights i snuck out diving into the ever varying adventures and misadventures that awaited with the dark.
she asked if those were mine while i found myself trying to come up with a good enough alibi, ending up using my friend’s name to cover up.
yet she just gave me a discerning glare that went past my soul, guilt washing over me all the while.

and then you enter the scene,
all those instances i let your quirkiness charmed me and the jokes and the far-fetched pick up lines i rolled my eyes at, dissing you as corny.
but then, in case you’re not aware, or if this wasn’t part of your evil scheme,
that was how your name slowly crept its place in my heart;
for whatever this blood pumping ***** is good for.

until the silence erupted the euphoric hurricane we spun around in,
and you started breaking out of the trance without my knowledge,
only leaving me asking for more-
all of a sudden the intimacy felt forced.

lovers that were out of their own picture

text messages from a number that you blocked out of frustration when i kept bugging you about it.
hugs you enveloped me in with that perfume, a different scent from the one i wore, stuck on your clothes.
suspicion unraised, countered quickly by your “ i love you’s”,
took long enough to realize they were useless reassurances.
the last straw a scene fabricated in the bathroom of a party confined by the vibrating music.
and even in my drunken state i willed myself to believe that was just because i had too much to drink, more than i could, as i stumbled my way home, shrugging off the shock.
that it was just someone who wore the same flannel you had and had the same curls that i ran my fingers through and spoke with the same voice that sang me all the songs you wrote and the ones that i loved.
i had one too many futile attempts at telling my brain to shut up, that i was just yet again overthinking.
it was just a random guy who had his lips pressed against a girl that wasn’t me.
that it wasn’t you hungrily undoing the buttons off someone else’s clothes.

but avoidance can only sit so much with confrontation.
and when i finally did, the only words you uttered were “ i love you”,
from the sick twisted guts you have i guess.
and when i caught your eyes,
i could see you trembling inside.
i guess guilt could still find a way to reach you after all.

the rebellion from my teenage years came back to me for a split second;
it was then when i knew why my mother called me a bad liar and caught me all those times ago.
because when she looked through my eyes, the truth revealed itself.

-“ ‘cause darling you’re a bad liar too.
i guess that’s why i fell hard for you.”