Wednesday, January 22, 2020


I look across the table for two
romantically lit by a fake flickering candle,
and I can tell by the way you avoid my eyes
that you’ve been lying to me again.
You big phony lying liar with your goddamn lies.
You pause your lying to my face for a moment
in order to type out more lies on your cell phone
with your stupid fat lying thumbs.
“Who were you texting just now?” I ask with a vicious smile,
the cat batting around the mouse just for fun.
“No one,” you shrug then try to change the subject.
“No one?” I ask again. “You were texting no one at all?”
“Well, a coworker,” you reply, “but it wasn’t important.”
“See,” you point out, “I’ve put my phone away.”
You then pretend to ignore it as it buzzes angrily in your pocket.
I’m not even remotely curious
because I’ve already talked to her.
She swears she didn’t know,
but then, she’s probably a pretty good liar too.
It’s all over for you,
although you don’t know it yet,
probably think you’re getting away with something.
You’re going to buy me one last expensive dinner
before I leave you,
shamed and shattered,
at the restaurant,
a waiter discreetly handing you a napkin
to wipe the red wine dripping from your face
onto your crisp white dress shirt.
You’ll watch me walk away,
and you’ll slink, alone, to your car,
the one with the cut brake lines.
Because when I wished you well,
with that half-hearted hug,
I was lying.

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