when we saw of each other, i figured we lied
and that was the first thing that struck me as right.
the thing I’ve begun to ask is
what’s the truth behind your word is?
and all of this
and me smiling
like a child.
what classifies a fib?
I’m beginning to tell
and boy, is it swell.
you have me like a butterfly
I’m stuck and I just need to try
it’s under the rocks that I sweat
it’s in the dirt I start to forget,
and gold tooth
that smile is like a slate
being drawn upon the grate
slowly un-knotting me
seems just right.
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry