The Whole, Sordid Affair

Posted: February 2, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My white heart is gaining stains

and beginning to stink like garbage.

 

If you would have taken it,

it would have bloomed like a rose,

 

it wouldn’t become unsightly.

But, my dear, you’re not a good liar.

 

Truths bleed through the phone,

and I piece them together.

 

A half-truth is, after all,

a whole, stinking lie.

 

I’m wearing black now.

You’re wearing red

 

and consorting with a Union Jack.

You’re alive.

 

Where am I?

Not in your eyes. Not on your mind.

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