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Rated: E · Poetry · Women's · #2026934
Lies can hurt, especially when we know we're being deceived.
He lied to me today.
I let him think I believed him -
smiling, moving the pastel comforter for him to lie beside me;
and he did - climbed underneath and lied again.

"I really wasn't talking to her, or anyone."

I know honey, I know.
I reached for the lamp,
wanting to make the lie true.
His hand landed on my arm,
searching to find my palm.
It fit perfectly there,
five fingers shaking as they gripped mine.

"You believe me right?"

Of course I do, why would you lie to me?
I stared through the darkness,
squinting to see the truth.
We lay, tangled in the blankets,
both wanting the other to say the true thing.

Behind my eyes were flashes of him,
laughing, running at me with a spider,
fresh flowers picked and a kiss;
those wild brown eyes I loved the first time I saw them.

Finally he sat up.
He squeezed my fingers as if the truth would hurt him -

"I lied, I'm sorry. I did talk to her, to all of them.
That's why they told you, I'll never lie again."

I held him smiling and said, thank you, I love you.
I felt his lungs release the guilt.

"I love you too, mom."
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