Storyteller

Always an habitual liar.

The constant pretender

Your stories shift around my head.

You were always dancing the finest line of fact & fiction.

I get to watch from a virtual far now

a quick toe dip in then out

eyes peaking through slits between fingers

breath held, tense, with anticipation

of What's Next.

I recall shouting once, many times, a then mantra:-

You Deserve To Be On Your Own.

a bad batch of feeling which had then taken hold.

But it was those rare omissions of then truth held me to you.

I gagged for more.

For when I saw you, really saw you,

Without

cloudy judgement.

Oh, pity!

I pitied the fool you are.

For you were just a storyteller who would never know a happy ending.