poem two: storytelling

parts of me filter
into parts of you, dissolve
into the stories. you tell stories
I don’t want to hear
for the sake of becoming
& the lemon juice truth burns
my lips when we kiss, creeps over
a year, cuts a ravine
between our bodies. then

I crack a joke through a cloud
of your smoke. I could
never, ever hate you –
not even the secret you
in the half-lies, because
he’s still the you who
nests in untold myth:
when you’re Pothos in my arms
when I’m Blodeuwedd in your eyes.

*

today’s poem followed the poem-a-day prompt, ‘secret’.

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