Cigars For the Fake

The lie is told from the shift in the air, 

She can sense it just as well as I. 

Ireful smile tug at my lips, 

Daring her to question me. 

I'm crass in all my ways, 

But she pulls at my hackles like no other can.

It is infuriating.

Mulishly I can let myself be aware that I am purporting something that I am not.

She notices with a raise of a brow, 

But no other tells are told.

I come from a home where cheap cigars are adorned to hands of the fake,

Egregious amounts of hostility are spoken with our laughter. 

It is not something I have come to question.

And yet here she sits in front of me with her cooling coffee,

Expression knowing. 

Author's Note

Though this may not actually describe my life, I find that this is very personal to me and allows me to vent a little. Thanks for reading.

Reviews

[jennifer little]

great poem

[EMF]

Sensational, and such a use of language thsat my mind is reeling wonderfully. And a strong undercurrent of darkness is quite threatening amongst the enegry. Spectacular.

[fireblossom]

This feels right on the edge spectacular but just looking in from another room. I see shadows that never come quite enough into focus. It was fun to read though. Insight in sight. It's like an eight on a scale of eleven for me.