habit not relationship
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Such Lies. By Alex Wyte

The ring of the phone
tightens my guts
the charade must go on
the deceit will prevail
once it was true
now merely a front
"I love you, I miss you", and other such lies.
I go through the motions
not wishing to wound
she looks for my love, she looks for my touch
but I leave her
as I climb into bed
and whisper once more
"I love you, I want you", and other such lies.
How to get out
to slavage us both
the coward is strong
his will wins out
the need for this woman
has long since gone
so why the pointless reprise?
"I love you, I need you", and other such lies.
She must know the truth
but will not confront
she holds on in hope rather than love
I withdraw from her touch
but her hurt is so raw
that I repeat once again
"I love you, I love you", and other such lies.

a line

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