Tag: growth

two poems about the evolution of a beautiful liar

your words are tied in a little bow
of crimson red and sparkles for the effect
words are sweet right up until they’re not
you were kind and innocent
until you weren’t anymore.

you were a beautiful thing when it all started
shiny like fresh polished shoes
you were sweet like a fresh picked apple
up until the rain started to fall down from the once light sky
you became a false sense of reality

you and the way your hair would curl when it got too wet
you and the way your smile was so sweet,
that smile could kill a thousand
the way your face fits with the glasses you don’t always wear
you were perfect in a trillion different ways

you told me the best lies that i believed with my whole heart
you gave me confidence that no other ever could
you would gave me the time of day rather than night
you were sweet but sour in the end

why do you lie though?
your life can’t be that bad
unless you don’t want anyone to know that you live with your grandma
only because your mom can’t stay sober long enough to feed you

or is it because you don’t want people to suspect you’re
okay even though you go to counseling because you want
a relationship with your dad who left while you were born because he didn’t want another child

is that why you lie
or do you lie to make yourself seem okay to stay strong
so that your friend that struggles to wake up everyday
knows that he has someone to talk to

you are helpless and slowly crumbling into nothing
but you’re a beautiful liar.

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holding an aged photograph of another’s
a sad but gracious smile curves
perking the dimple on the right side up
just a quarter of an inch.

a set of kind words fill your lips and into the air
you picked yourself up, no longer crumbling into nothing.
pursuing happiness in whatever way possible
absolutely whatever way possible.

a passing of three-hundred sixty-five days
changing the alcohol into pure water
the nicotine that clouded your brain triggered the fire alarm
bringing you back down to taste the fresh oxygen.

your hair still curls the way it does when it’s wet
your smile is still sweet but deadly
you don’t always wear your glasses, only when you’re reading
another’s voice, seeking another’s opinion and reasoning

but at the end of the day, you’re still sweet and sour
you still share beautiful lies
you just found the person you are supposed to be

nobody can change exactly
you will always be a beautiful liar, but you still tell a wonderful truth