Dead man walking
She's bound to know this time you lied.
She must have noticed when you kissed the bride.
The hand that lingered a little too long.
The softest kiss with a hint of tongue.
The longing look as you drew apart.
"The bastard, he must have slept with the tart."
The forced smile and the squinty eyes.
You just know she's disseminating all your lies.
The nervous walk, back to your table.
You want to run but know you're not able.
You try to make conversation but she's not talking.
That's when you know, you're a dead man walking.
Copyright © John Jones | Year Posted 2020
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