A poem about deceit.
The phone calls in the
middle of the night
that hang up
when I answer
The whispers when you think
I’m not listening
I see the sly smiles
when you re not aware I’m
observing
Late coming home
I listen to your excuse
Now you re working on
the weekends
New clothes
New cologne
Whats this new underwear
too
Lipstick on the collar
It isn’t mine
Smell of perfume
I wear Channel Number 5
I’m short, the passage
seat has been moved
the person has to be
at least five feet nine
You seem pleased with
your secret
I guess I wasn’t enough
Fool me once shame on me
Fool me twice
I deserve to be
I’m not fooled
I see your deceit
I’m not deceived
you are
Guess what Ive been up too
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