Very Lily White Lie

The first time you lied to me felt like I'd been shot through the
heart by you form close range. Strangely I didn't mind. It marked you
out as human. Another first. Before that moment and for a very long
time after that moment, I beheld you with a divinity reserved for
parents in awe of their bloody new-born. Once I swear, I actually saw
the sun shine out of your arse as you bent over to shake out the picnic
rug we'd used that afternoon.

And then you lied to me.

It was a rudimentary lie and it instantly made everything between us
better and at the same time, everything in the world worse. Had I
challenged you, spoken up and exposed you, our world would have folded
there and then, sealing us like bugs under a paving slab. We would have
lived on in the dirt with our heavy ceiling, but as it is our heads are
clear and free. I'm not saying I haven't lied to you on occasion, I
have, often for no reason, often for the general one. But you didn't
worship me in the way I mentally beckoned you to come close when you
were not near. When you lied to me on that Summer evening, I now know
you were reminding me that you were the one with the arbitrary power,
the vice like technique up your long sleeve to break me at anytime. My
intelligence is insulted to think that I have not been able to express
a singularly devastating retort, criticism or remark that has come even
a poor second to what you told me on that day. I don't think I ever
will.

Too much has slipped through the net and I even now I am weak enough to
let you catch me every time I have the good grace to fall.