Wednesday, January 15, 2020

[Her Lies] a poem

[Her Lies]

She lies;
we both know;
it’s unspoken between us;

she lies
& I’ve grown fond of how well
she lies,

even if they are lies she’s told a
thousand times over-

-I’ve always loved setting
myself up,
not in the best of manners,
habitually in the worst of sorts,
where triumph is always a far cry
so feel bad not,
feel never sad,
your lies are necessary;
I remain to hear every
tidbit of deception.




Dontrell Lovet't
from, [AutoErotic FatalitieS]

No comments:

Post a Comment