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
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.