NO REFUNDS ON THE TRUTH (August Postcard Poem 2017)

He always wrapped his lies in gilded paper,

tied them off in bows of ornate excuses,

added gift tags written

in the disappearing ink of promise.

 

Now here he stands before her,

holding bare truth in cupped hands,

offering her the unkempt bit of disaster

that was the one true gift

he could actually offer.

 

Copyright 2017

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