told someone the other day
“truth is nothing but a number
of little lies
giving each other context”,
and maybe that’s a lie too,
but that’s how I’ve always felt
about words;
impish little things.
there are so many things I wish
I could translate
transcribe
parse
from the raw thread of my thought
into these little fictions;
all my life I’ve made time for eye contact,
but you can only look in one eye at a time.
I can only hope that everyone I love knows.
