They say real eyes realise real lies.
But how can these eyes realise these lies
When these eyes can’t even see the blue skies.
How can these eyes realise these lies when these lies lie with me, between these thighs
Realise these lies when these eyes are bloodshot from these cries?
Take a second.
Wondering how long this will last,
I can feel our end is near.
but I am blinded by a fear that-
Whose fist will ever love me (the way yours has)
Who will conquer my body and dominate my mind,
Who will kiss my bruises and sooth my soul with overpowering darkness?
I see why they say love is blind.
Does pain have a voice?
Does it sound like my silent screams in the middle of the night?
Is it shaped like my teardrops or the scar on my left eye?
No, take me.
Because if real eyes realise real lies,
then my eyes were blurred at that altar -
doomed to a lifetime of lies.
She says as she applies another layer to conceal her scars-
“Oh it’s nothing! I bumped into a wall, how clumsy of me!”
She too has become a master of lies.