really, truly

I hear his words-

I feel his lies.

They spill down my throat

like the wine in my glass.

Crimson and bitter,

they leave my head dizzy-

ultimately, sick. 

 

I love him.

In sober moments,

I really, truly do.

I don’t hate him.

But, I do.

The more I drink his lies,

I really, truly do. 

PoetryEmily Pickerd