The Quiet Lie

In the dim room where faces flicker,

candles thrown like spotlights on silent questions,

I watched you believe the story,

wrapped tightly in the fabric I chose.

Your eyes—hopeful, open—searched mine

for something honest.

Instead, I nodded, let the lie settle,

a dust mote in the settling light,

too soft to sweep away.

The lie hums low,

a quiet string beneath the chorus,

threading through the spaces I can’t fill,

waiting for the moment I never found.