How to lie was something learned.
It meant love
at the time anyway.
Mine will be a long life
feeling always a little ruined,
deep in a well,
knowing the worst thing
I am capable of
not telling. Once did I see the figment as a man.
One man in particular
and the most unusual I have known.
I knew him in a different city.
He was older but not old
and I lied to save us (him)
from disgrace. He said even
without love there is a story of love.
Even without sex, desire.
It does not matter; I understand the strange logic
by which we lived:
to withhold the truth meant
we could create a new one,
a separate thing
true or not un-true.
It was our arrangement.
from To See the QueenFind it in the library
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