The truth is but a bitter wine

Your gilded mask wears heavy on your face, but you’re careful not to let it slip. Your predatory eyes peer through and they stir the unease in my belly. When the light shines just right, I see the scar tissue that festers beneath. One lashing look at the turmoil that requires your covering. You’re careful how you waltz along the shadows, you know how to work your angles. You understand what will shine the way you want it to when you want it to. You know what must be concealed beyond the veil. And you spun me a world so captivating, I even inhabited it for a time.

But the winds blew hot as the air dropped cold. The light was scalding and the darkness punishing. You almost sold me on it, but not quite. And I was quick enough to dart back to a world less shadowed by impossibility before the way was sealed. What a cruel existence you’ve created for yourself. A little throne where none of the roses grow and all the thorns thrive. The air is stagnant and the fruits rotten. But that too you could manipulate for a time.

I’m not sure there’s ever been a person that I knew less than I’ve known you. The more I dissect, the less I understand. The more I learn, the more I must unlearn. Of all the things in my life I have left, I am most horrified by you. A little collection of fibs and fabrications, delivered in an ominous lullaby. Of all the things that could have been, nothing chills me more than the idea of your web. 

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