Denial

Denial sits upon the crown of my head

Bathed in course, satirical waters

Of ambivalent teenhood.

Its bony wing rests above my ear,

Its back arched along the curve of my skull,

Craning my neck to sustain the weight

Of the denial I so yearn to suppress.

And yet,

Its calf dangles just under my brown,

Concealing the truth

Woven into my eyes

By my own fingers and thread.

“How I wish you could perceive my handiwork;

How I wish I could capture your reaction

To the multicolored string in my gaze,

Dangling down the brink of my eye

And darkened by the river of tears to my heel.”

Pray, yet,

Before my denial’s blanketing calf,

Clothed by the mistrust of ambiguous glares of judgment,

Falsity is truth,

And my truth is a fairytale.

And to all outside my colorful gaze,

This paradox is clarity.

And perhaps, love, you are the writer.