Manacles

Unquiet manacles,
knot in lady like observances.

I recapitulated the way
I cheerfully lied to myself &
imagined that he is a simple,
abstract version of person-hood.

I am lied to & thought
his transmutable arms were real.

I was the truth he doubted,
existing in all of my solidness
(which he recognized)
realizing that his lies could not
hold me much longer.

In all of my solidity & convictions
I am concrete truth, absorbing lies,
doubts and monsters in my wet form.

Blessing them in the immortality
of my thoughts as I soak away their
breaths and preserve their impressions
under my skin.

No scars to show, I’ll look smooth & flat,
handcuffed to the memory of their sincere,
seeming, secrets, annoyed with my petty
reluctance to see their lies.

I am brave and benevolent in my delayed
ability to release my analytic disbelief and idiocy.