The Lying Woman who tells you

she can't meet you tonight

too busy...

She just doesn't want to

 

She tells you to your face

that she has seen Liz Taylor's

Cleopatra

but skirts over the details

and moves the conversation back

to family guy

 

 swears that the most beautiful

sight she saw

was a sun setting over Rivington Pike

where she walked with her dogs

 

Her favourite book is Rebecca

although she tells you it is

something obscure by Emily Bronte

She's read the Cliff Notes and knows the main themes

 

She loves the idea of the mad woman in the attic but

never got around to it

 

She's blurred the lines

between fact/fiction so much

that even she can't remember

if she ever saw

The Green Mile

all the way though

 

She's terrified you won't love her if

she's not interesting

 

The truths sound like lies

her dad's been on Corrie

she's been on reality TV

her grandma is mad

 

But she only lies about things

that doesn't matter

And sometimes the lies are just

embellishments and exaggerations

to keep her on the same page

 

I'm justifying her choices now

justifying her lies

 

Because

the lying woman is me