The Truth

You said you did not fear the truth,
You said it did not know you at all.
And yet, when the truth came for a visit,
It sent you skittering up the wall.

You claimed the truth was merely false,
You swore that lying truth could not be sane.
But it looked quite rational to me,
As it came sliding down the windowpane.

I wished to let it in for the night,
To sit and listen to its tales.
But you refused and shut the poor soul out,
To be chased by the howling gales.

But I could not let the sweet thing suffer,
And so I fetched it as you slept.
I warmed the truth and heard its stories,
Of pain so fierce I sat and wept.

The truth soon came to the end of its tales,
Then it took my hands quite gently.
And asked softly would I like to hear,
The truth that you have kept from me.

I shook my head and I stepped away,
For listening to others' truths is fine.
But huddled here, and you in bed,
I do not think I'm ready to hear mine.