Behind the Curtain
If you’re going to hide it,
you’d better hide it well –
not in Pandora’s open shoebox
on the top shelf of the closet.
On your pedestal preaching
the salvation of the faithful,
I guess I came home just too late
to see you on your knees.
Too bad, because I’ll bet it was
one hell of a good show.
You stab me repeatedly
then you blame me for bleeding
and running away every time
I see you with a sword in hand.
Is it any big surprise
that I’ve become resistant to “I love you,”
especially when
only your mouth is smiling?
Who’s laughing with you, movie star?
Which of the faceless on that page
knew, and did nothing?
I don’t believe you thought this through,
or maybe that's just easier.
Looking back, I would never have made
the trip over four years’ ocean
to find the missing pieces.
My past never stays there, but now
I know better -
you aren’t as perfect as you claim.
You’re no magician
when the secret of your smoke and mirrors
is posted on billboards all along the highway.
Mystique may work overseas
(it apparently has for years),
but not in my country –
here, we know a trick when we see one,
and I’m on to you.
If withholding is the crime,
then lock me up too
in the exquisite prison of denial -
sitting here, fingers flying over
words disguised as a dream…
Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2006
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