The Lies We Tell Ourselves in the Light

the world slouches down around you,
the accidental bump of elbows in hallways,
skin beneath sweaters and skirts
naked as beach bark stripped.
the wind swallows you whole
and it is like
the subtle difference between autumn and spring—
one dying, the other
breathing
around the lie.
around the truth
unfurling,
the before and the after of that
one look                                                  one glance                                    one heartbeat skipping
skipping
skipping
tightening like a tourniquet, a guillotine slicing
.
.
.
down through your                   h
e
a
r
t
flowers gaping upwards, withering, marveling in the sunlight
of her smile, a smile like the flickering of fireflies at dusk, a smile
you should look away from you should look away from you should
LOOK AWAY
but twilight
always did beguile the sun to sink into its depths, you
always did prefer the darkness of the undone,
unraveling within one heartstring
at
a
time:
a truth—a half-truth glossed over with a half-lie
some only like the sun
you like the sun you like the sun
but some like the sun
and the moon.