I was always too good
at mincing words--spreading sympathy
like jelly on bread.
so when your desert heart
spun stories of me
I was far too polite to dispute.
I left a promise
to keep you looking to the sky,
far from where I crept away in the night.
knowing in my own guilty heart
how you would count the days
until the rain brought the lie,
and the truth.
--
Title prompt led me to this picture, the true inspiration for the poem.
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