By Jesi Scott
He calls me a liar,
Says I fabricate events to justify my reasoning…
I’ll not say he’s entirely wrong.
I am a liar
-fabrication is my job-
To create things that aren’t true.
To make you believe that I think your lips are roses,
Your eyes the stars above,
Your touch the softest silk against my skin,
And your voice deep and warm as a velvet summer night.
But it’s all lies, deceptions, fiction,
-I perjure myself every time I tell you-
Though I want it all to be true
your lips are just lips
-I long to feel them on every inch of my skin-
your eyes are simply eyes
-I feel them staring at me even when in a crowded room-
your touch is only skin against my skin
-your heat warms the cold from my bones-
and your voice is the only one I want to hear in the depths of the night
-my birdsong at first light-
Yes, I am a liar…
and I’ll fill your soul with truth.