Fine Lies.

There is a corner of my mind I avoid,
The one where all the stale promises hide. 
And no, they don't smell like good times,
Or sunny days and rainbows
Rather, they carry the scent of lusty time.

( Time, which hovers around our tender promises, like a venomous double-edged sword
Time, the one we blame for every descent.
Ha! Our ascents? of course, they're ours to devour! 
Why should time take credit for such mean feats? ) 

Anyway, let's go back.
Now, what shallow beings are we,
That we make such delicate promises,
Fully aware, that they will be tucked away, rather noiselessly, without much commotion, into that corner.
Stacked into those large cupboards, where you keep all your unfulfilled promises and embarrassments,
adorned with finery, as though they're something to be proud of. 

How naively do we make those promises : 
" oh, I promise!" you say, as your head jerks backwards and your face lightens up with a laugh
A laugh that I know too well, a laugh that you keep especially 
For hollow occasions like these. 
I know it too well.
Too well, for me to believe it. 

And what do you say when your conscience reminds you of it, 
When that cupboard starts quivering with the weight of your lies

( Lies are lies after all, 
far more deadly, far more heavier than a mere truth. 
Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I cannot tell the difference between sugar and spice,
So sometimes they get mixed up,
And leave a weird taste on your tongue.
The taste of lies, eh? ) 

Oh yes, what do you say, again?
"I'm sorry I couldn't fulfil your promise!"
But what you don't say is,
" I'm sorry I let your hopes crumble like the foundations of an apparently strong house."
" I'm sorry I dismissed it with a wave as though it were a random wisp of smoke."

And yet, I find myself apologizing, 
Decorating your ego with the jewels
Of my now dead self-esteem. 

I find myself carrying the burden of your apology, "Did I really deserve an apology?" 
As yet again, I embark on a journey
of lies, apathy, greed 
and lust. 

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