Guile

I crinkle my nose.
I reserved judgment for a time well before we met.
I already know how this moment tastes in my mouth,
as I’ve imagined it before.
Smooth, coy, alternative, messy and perhaps musky.
And I already know I don’t like the way his smile curls,
Just so, almost friendly but a pinch too suave.
I pressed my tongue against my teeth, gritted,
raise my voice half an octave, and give false charity to a face.
It’s already happened in my mind, in slow motion,
although now it passes before I notice it happening.
There is no time for new analysis, no time for decisions renewed;
they have been made, and they are enough.
A compliment flies past my ear, I pretend bashfulness:
It’s not my first time riding Humbleness at the rodeo.
A falsetto laugh, a wrinkled nose, toothy grin aside,
I am a viper in deception.
I mimicked not knowing anything about him,
spoke as though I’d never heard a malicious thing he’d done,
touched his arm earnestly as though we were long lost friends,
and in my mind I vomited the counterfeit bile my body
longed to release into the dishonest void,
cleansing me of this disparate attitude
and healing a forked tongue.

Advertisements

words like daggers

You can put me on a pedestal,
brush my hair back from my face.

You can count the dewdrops on the flowers
instead of all my disgrace

You can bathe me in the moonlight,
so my flaws can’t ever show

You can sing sweet soothing lullabies,
and still I’ll hate you so.

You can tear me down and bully me,
a slap across my face

You can point out each and every flaw,
call attention to this disgrace

You can take a mark away here or there,
you can’t reward the good I know

You’ll punish me for things I’ve done not
to make me hate you so.

Yet, I’m not the devil nor an angel
I’m not a sinner nor am I pure

I hate and then I love again,
Tis passion’s curse not cure

Although I touch at each extreme,
don’t insult me to my face

I’m neither good nor bad nor anything,
that you could ever place.