Smoke From Your Lips

- somewhere –
from where?
I dismissed the suave vagueness in your voice
as a piece of your patchwork personality.
It's smeared and scattered here and there;
your alluring ambiguity.

I remember(so fondly, even now)
whispering in your ear,
'Trusting someone, and having them
is, above all, my worst fear…'

And you replied,
without hesitation,
'I'm deathly afraid of heights,
my dear'.

So now, you've left me to wonder
why it came as a surprise
when in crumpled balls upon the floor
I found your paper-thin disguise.
Did you become bored with me,
or did I begin to fall
t o o f a r!
in love with your masquerade?
All elaborate costuming and jewels,
this false persona you have made.

But it seems it was all an illusion,
just light caught in my eye.
And I wonder if it is it alright,
that to a non-existent someone,
still, I cannot say good-bye?

(notes: inspired by one too many circumstances of having people lie to me almost completely about who they actually are.

this one also rhymes… oddly enough.)