A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Why are your lies so convincing?

Sometimes you yell so loudly

the cacophony of your message

drowns out whispers of truth. 

The most vocal

have a way

of sounding like the majority

of sounding like the truth

even on occasions they are not. 

But then you whisper

with the cunning of the serpent 

to introduce doubts

a gentle confusion

-if confusion may be that-

the niggling that

slowly erodes

the foundations 

slowly drags

the coastline

into the sea. 

On occasion

the lies are so blatant

they are almost laughable,

but in your cleverer moments

your subtlety shows finesse,

the burden of proof is shifted elsewhere,

can anyone argue this case

beyond reasonable doubt?

And yet again,

the jury is hung. 

What hope is there

of conquest over you

when I know 

you may be chained

but likely neither banished

nor executed?

You whisper again

that I cannot know with certainty

that your words are lies.

You say the past evidence is tainted. 

There were reasons

for previous failures. 

You want just one more chance

to prove your point,

just one,

you say,

and then you’ll accept the consequences

if you’re wrong,

which you assure me you won’t be. 

You articulate

the benefits of trusting you. 

You downplay

the risks – they aren’t so great,

you say I could change my mind

at any point

and turn back,

but you say

I won’t want to

because you are so sure 

of yourself. 

You modulate your tone

and it takes on an almost hypnotic quality –

melodic repetition

of just enough

to cause doubts. 

And in this moment,

right here, right now,

deep in your labyrinth 

your maze of tunnels

there is one fragile string of truth 

that I must follow back to the light. 

Love. 

You don’t love me,

you love yourself. 

You’ve said you love me,

or at least you’ve said you will

contingent on me following your advice,

but that’s not love. 

Love is not contingent. 

Love is not negotiable. 

Love is not built

on lies

cemented by doubt. 

Take your selfish falsehoods,

your cruel gaslighting,

your taunting and teasing,

and fuck off out of my life. 

I’m done. 

I’m done with your excuses

your explanations

your poisonous advice. 

It’s time 

to turn up the volume 

on the voices of actual love. 

Fuck you,

I’m having breakfast.