breathe with deceit

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remember when you told me

    how you held her hand tight
like an old, religious woman  holding a rosary
  even after you knew she was lying to you. 

and you said, you felt salt sprinkles 
    on a lacerated wound 
when she started to walk away. 

so you grabbed her arms
    and whirled her towards
throbbing chest.

for sometimes, you needed
  more than what truth 
can lay on the table. 

you needed the warmth
    radiating from her skin
you needed to feel her softness
          curl around 
your scarred body. 

so you’d rather
  have her exhale deceit
inside your mouth. 

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