Eyes playful with insecurity--
I've seen them innocent, coy, enticing
and distraught--all teasing masculinity!
I've seen them in disbelief, slicing
to what's left of me; hurting her was easy--
she was fragile! Protecting her from others
was easier than from myself, and how sleazy
that I'd betrayed her trust by way of another.
Had I lied when I said I loved her?
As for that, I don't quite know.
What I do know is I hurt her--
when I could've made her glow with magnitude.
They say brown eyes make the best liars,
and in this case, I don't regret the lie,
for in that brief fit of desire,
I allowed inhibitions to die.
Blame him? I am unwilling to begrudge
on behalf of one clear and specific point--
he allowed me his imitation love,
and our bodies, this love did anoint.
Engulfed in the music my mind plays,
my heart becomes my soul's own lyre.
Though I'm aware it's just a phase,
my heart still loves her brown eyed liar.