57 (13 lies)
The truth is, I only tell 13 lies.
Lie no. 2: I lie in praise of heaven.
Three: this is between just the two of us.
Four: in the silence we share, we are whole.
Yes, I heard you (five), I was listening.
Of course it matters to me. Very much.
No, it doesn't bother me, it's nothing.
Da-ding … lucky 7s, ding, jackpot.
For every lie, I'll give you a nickel.
A lie is a live heart, hopping in dust.
Just a few minutes after eleven.
You and I, we are a dozen goodbyes.
A better lie is a fountain of youth.
Without lies, none of us are beautiful.
originally published in Pen Poetry Series