Deceptive Beauty

August 9, 2010 at 2:33 am (Poetry) (, , , , , )

What a beautiful thing it is to lie,

A well crafted web of intricacies,

A magnificent and misleading façade,

And what of the liar?

A painter of falsehoods,

A sculptor of hyperbole,

Who but a genius could weave such a story?

A splendid deception,

A perfect untruth,

And who, you may ask, is telling you this?

An injured party?

A liar in denial?

If not them, than who?

The master of pretending,

The lover of tall tales,

The grand illusionist herself.

At your service.

***I have had a problem as a compulsive liar in the past, and I still slip up sometimes.  This poem is my confession, as well as an expression of my feelings about lying.

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What Love Is

April 15, 2010 at 9:11 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

You cannot tell me what love is,

I already know.

It is talking and trusting.

It is helping and healing.

It is listening and

Leaping.

Taking a leap of faith.

Love maybe patient and kind,

but it is honest and hard-hitting.

I know what love is.

So let me tell you

What we both already know.

***I did write this with a specific person in mind, but as I read over it again and again I keep thinking that maybe my hand wrote something different than what my mind wanted. Maybe my heart took over for a little while, if that’s even possible.

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