That shy smile makes you look like a vegan in fur. I knew that you were lying long ago. It’s funny how your voice changed, although you must not have noticed, and it’s funny how you thought that I would believe such ludicrous lies, like you were weaving tapestries and never made a seam. Flopping flippant logic like a light switch in a dream.
Mother may I take ten babysteps, back into this corner, back away from you. May I ask you something else, about that certain other night? Just, where did you go? I thought you would not leave, though surely I was wrong.
I see you bite your lip, and let me see your eyes. They’re turning color fast now, and it doesn’t match your shirt. Your swirling sunflowers are spitting seeds of wisdom, knowledge that I need not ever know.
Sweet everlasting ignorance, as blissful as an empty page, unclouded by the inky fingerprints of another unknown author, but no amount of rubber can wipe it from that grin.
Silence the shine on your coy whitened teeth, and scrape away your reddened lips. I needn’t hear your tale. I wish I could escape your tears for fear of your mascara. The black is on my arm already, and I feel the slow erosion, the mudslide makes a cave of my ventricles, and pulls my arteries apart. Yet, your shaking in my chest may cause a change of heart.
