The Autobiography of the Falsehoods Which Are Not Love
by Bill Yarrow
In 1990, his girlfriend told him she was seeing someone else.
"That's OK," he said. "I just want you to be happy."
In 1991, a smiling woman touched him on the arm and said,
"Don't believe everything everyone tells you, Stephen."
In 1992, he was generous with lies and did everyone he loved
the favor of never telling anyone nothing but the truth.
In 1993, he wound up hating the woman he betrayed in his heart
for betraying him in her body.
In 1994, though he tried to say what welled inside him,
he articulated nothing and created a new vocabulary of pain with his eyes.
In 1995, he was palpably honest
and lost all respect in the torrid eyes of the world.
In 1996, he got married and the past began to fade,
like a song whose words he never really knew.
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Author's Note
This poem was published in Corium.
Thanks, Heather Fowler.
"The Autobiography of the Falsehoods Which Are Not Love" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press, 2016).
So tortuous the journey of an ego chasing desire it makes my own ache with empathy as it struggles to suppress raucous laughter. Stunning orchestration of the comic/tragic perspective all face who seek fulfillment in a gratification-hungry culture.
and, we never learn...
That last line! *
Nice. Thankfully the tortured journey ends with the last line's affirmation!
Enjoyed.
Thank you, Matt, Kitty, Charlotte, Ed, and Gary!
Beautifully put together!
Thank you, Darryl!