Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Am I Truthful? Am I Honest?

It’s happening again.
All day,
my mind has been lost to what you last said,
awake and asking questions,
late in the evening, after many drinks had been had.
Ever present doubt is so much clearer with an unclear head.
Something about the way you said it, with such sadness, such remorse,
but of course, I am transparent, like a galled ghost, under your gaze.
It hurt when you asked me, with a casual tone.
Am I truthful?
No, probably not.

Am I honest?
Let me be clear,
every thing I’ve ever told you is something that I wanted to be true,
so in a sense, I never deceived or damaged you,
but the road to hell is paved with pure thoughts and nobody’s thoughts are purer than mine,
in most cases. I swear, it’s just sometimes,
all my intentions get addled and I am saddled with how she looks at me,
and then, you see, I start lying to take the edge off how much the truth really scares me.
No, I know, it’s not what you wanted to hear.

It isn’t what I wanted either,
like everyone, I am acutely aware of what some people want me to be,
instructed by the poorly constructed rules of normal, healthy, family friendly values,
killed before I’ve even lived,
enchanted by the girl who stares back from the mirror, and the girl who stares up from the tinder profile I gingerly swipe right on, while ignoring all the perfectly charming men.
Get me another drink,
in penance for your impatience and invasiveness.
Remember me however you like,
let me be honest and truthful, in your mind.

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