Lie-ability

It’s easy for you to claim that it’s truth
Merely bending onto its own frame
Perfection at its best
And nothing else...
But not for me.
Bitter be last of those days
Swooned over your slicing of syllables
Days of vaulting those virulent vowels
You said were harmless...
Beauty set to sleep by your rhythm
Razor of grass as blades of your tongue
The bullshitting babble buttering your lips
All gone
With irony, that synchrony of motion
Writhing hip touching hip as you parted
Slits of legs to give you liberty
With all i had left...
Nought but frigid breath of lies
I devoured thirsting and trusting your depth
Could sanctify truth
Ungodly, and lied to
Like puppet clenched between your fingers
Bending must be heaven for you
And hell beyond that brazen fantasy:
Everything I’d ever wish to see
Can only live on the tip of your tongue.