The Artistry of Lies

You are made of a strand of lies

That unravel from time to time.

Your strings of pearls reside

On me and beautifully sigh

Of you,

Whispers of false truths.

My clasp always comes undone

And I am left with the loss of being one

That once believed that she was two

And yet it was never really true.

Mouth agape and soul askew,

I sit and wonder what happened to you

Or maybe just the you that I thought that you were

Or maybe just the you that I preferred.

I sit and think and my thoughts plague me, they do,

For I know that I carved a hole in me, to house you.

And if a part of me, being you, was false

Then maybe I never knew myself at all

And the whole of the world is just a lie

That we cultivate and create until we die

And lies are not lies at all, but in truth

Are dreams woven by artists such as you.