Half-Truths
My voice catches, caught in an air pocket.
The gifts I make are placed on plastic plates
and once you’re dressed I turn into a coquette
feeding you half-lies at romantic rates.
It’s chocolate: it’s cake with false filling
made with modified milk ingredients.
So please, ditch the paper doilies, darling.
Don’t try to impress the ladies, the gents.
I want to steal the hat off of your head,
but not with criminal intent, promise.
It’s to learn the words you’ve not yet said,
and the thought persists — but I resist.
You’re not the only one: I wear a veil
that’s starting to rip where your fingers trail.