Inside Out
In the basement of our house
Was a workshop
Of gray tools
And the smell of 3-in-1 oil
There under the steady glare
Of florescent lighting
My father
Worked.
Whenever he called me downstairs
It was to talk
About something important
Or a mistake I made
After every few sentences
He would adjust his glasses
And pause
To make sure I understood every word he said
A habit
He had until the day he died.
Speaking with determination
He told me never to lie
You may think people don't listen
He said
But inside they do
The mind
Works
Like a sponge
It remembers everything
Even when we get tired and forget.
So remember
Nobody likes a liar.
I first saw Susan walking
Down the street
Head held high
Graceful
I tried catching up with her
But she was quicker
Than I was
We met again when she dropped her keys
Picking them up
I told her
She was the most beautiful woman I ever met
A slight exaggeration
An innocent white lie
But a lie nevertheless.
Soon we were together
Clothes on
Clothes off
The new found
Thrill
Of intimacy
Was intoxicating.
In small bits
Day by day
Freedom evaporated
And our lives
Became hopelessly twisted
In an undertow
Of life, money,
Apartment
Problems and future
I wasn't honest with myself
And deep down inside
I never knew
What I was hiding
Or how fragile a relationship could be.
One night she asked if I knew
Anything about roses
I barely stammered a what?
Roses symbolize love, sympathy and
Elegant beauty
She said
But they're one of the most fragile flowers
Ever
They can turn brown and die
From a chill in the air.
I fell asleep on the couch that night
Getting up in the morning
I saw the made up bed
And in the kitchen
Nestled between coffee and sugar
Was an envelope
With my name
Scrawled in clear
Bold handwriting
My hands shook
As I reached for the envelope
The urge
To leave it unread
Was strong
Until suddenly, I tore it open
And read it through
From top to bottom
Over and over again.
Catching my breathe I sat down
Enfolded
In the strange quiet
Of an empty apartment
Wondering how different things might have been
Had I not told white lies.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009
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