I seem drawn at the moment, to writing about lies and liars. I'm not sure why; I haven't been through anything traumatic, haven't come across a deluge of people lying. I have had a few conversations this week about the ethics of cheating (relationship wise) and it has got me thinking as to what is right and wrong. I recently found out a couple of people I know have had flings with people in relationships. Now these are friends that I respect and people whose judgement I really trust. It makes the whole situation very cloudy in my opinion. Anyway, I can't judge, I haven't been in that situation.
So, this was all to explain the possible reasons for my focus on telling lies. It's an interesting topic to explore, outside of the relationship context. What is considered an acceptable lie? Is there any such thing? Why do we feel the need to lie, or, conversely, to tell the truth? I lie. Not all the time but, sometimes, lies are necessary.
As House says, "It's a basic truth of the human condition that everybody lies, the only variable is about what".
On that note, here is a recent (today) poem.
Against my cheek,
the pressure of her hand is painful,
bringing memories of similar hands in similar states.
Betrayer,
though she does not know it.
The word hangs like foggy air between us,
the syllables bouncing through my skull.
A friend - I have no rights to call her that,
she none to call me.
Yet,
against my cheek,
her hand is warm.
Perhaps the unsaid lies can be forgotten,
somehow a silent truce reached.
My vision blurs with him
softly taking her hand.
Rising, she leaves me,
the warm touch replaced by memories
of lips once soft for me.
It shall always be this,
lies and half-truths.
And him,
breaking her with kisses.
No title as of yet, possible one is Fake, although that may be to obvious.
