Half-Truths

When truth is halved

the world is become half-night

the obscuration of fractal glitter

behind uncertainty dusted

in ruin, in dewdrop gravity

webbing across our atmosphere:

no more to see, no more to know

where the light falls on

silhouettes of disappointment.

 

When truth is halved

we might think in terms of

pulling punches, holding own

but the flesh remembers

and the world is pink reduced

to crackling horizons blood knew

like a soubriquet of sorrow

friends named in bereft absolution

of the craving for promises never realized

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