Image via Wikipedia

Betrayals blow on sour winds
curling greasy smoke into my eyes.
I lose sight of the angels
drifting over mermaids playing in green foam.
Glamors might win sweet favor,
yet truth is an austere bride
worth more than the next hundred breaths.

Spending time in your company
murders my mood.
I have little taste for fending off lies -
gnats and biting insects
that wish to suck away at blood,
while distracting from veracity;
clouds of obfuscation around the core issues.

Silence is the only portion of your voice
that is true. Things you prefer not to reveal
go unanswered, secrets wrapped in enigma.
I know the moments you speak false
because your lips are moving.

Fires, once cherished in ice-filled days
embellish and underline misleading things,
pointing where the truth is not. You lead
conversations down pathways you have drawn
so that when we stop, we neither know where we are
nor how we arrived.