This is me believing you and every lap your tongue makes around your lies.
Held in my hand for a moment, it melts with your conscience.
Slipping around your switches and flips you don't remember which way is up.
I lean back and see what you are too small to.
Can't help but pity your misconceived idea of trust;

We had an appointment to speak and reciprocate soft nothings, but you were laying next to a newer body and all memory was lost. Rolling in your head was a tight regret because you knew. It was being washed over by your rationalizing, by your swerving from the truth. Night swapped with day and your phone wore my missed calls like a badge of your indescretion, 1000 miles away. Finally accepting the work that must be done, you push that hard button. My voice was weak and eager to know what had been done. But you wouldn't let it leave your lips, as if by speaking it it became real because I would know. My knowledge made it reality. Hours missing from your story, sweat and tears and quick breathing and worry omitted from opposite view points. "Trust me, believe I would never hurt you." You really believed those snake like words.
Empty condom wrappers litter your mind, keeping you from clarity. Flying quickly home, at the door, in the bedroom. Lonesome flowers accompanied you, a rare scent, a scent of guilt.