Both of us lie,
You, somewhere outside of this poem,
Me, inside here, writing it.
I love you. Why are you fighting it?
We know we are both fake.
But are we lying for each other’s sake?
Both of us lie.
Over our separate graves,
Two trees are being sly,
Uniting their branches.
You and I were always in cahoots.
God knows what’s going on in the roots.
Both of us lie—
Our differences are such
That even in hate, we’re forced to touch.
No one changes; obstinately
We planned different styles of poetry
And refused to be reconciled.
We hated. But we smiled.
Both of us lie.
We have made two worlds—
One where God, loved, tells all;
Another, confused, but not ready to fall.
We live happily, separately, in each one,
As if the sun obeyed the moon
And the moon obeyed the sun.
But they don’t.
It is my burden to know we shouldn’t be two.
Look at all I love. Look at all you do.