Dishonesty

The lies rolled out his tongue flawless and fluent

as his “I love you”s.

Once she realized how easy it was for him

to spit on her trust,

it became easier for her to accept his words as truths.

His dishonesty

tasted like the hard liquor that kept her warm at 1 am

while he was still out there.

She was slowly getting addicted to the waviness

or maybe it was the numbness.

Probably a combination of the two.

The half truths weren’t as exciting as the plain blunt lies.

She could tell the difference

and she always loved it when he gave it to her straight.

The burn in her chest

was a feeling she had come to love.

She had learned to tolerate the bitterness with a slice of lime

and a little salt.

 

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