Losing The Habit Of Lying

My face an open display of every emotion I’ve ever felt.

My features lose their poker face or feigned equivalence in my honesty. 

Lying is altering someone’s memory, potentially even your own if you work

it like a muscle, strained from overuse. Aching, it jumps at the touch of being caught.

Lies are sensitive to investigation,

relying on the apathy of the receiver to survive and proceed in their destruction of trust and abandonment of loyalty.

Omitting truths and alluding to misunderstandings, I would falsify words that fell from my lips like an invisible poison to naive ears as they lose their faith in me. 

I lost myself in the muddled facts,

swallowed whole by my own deceit.

For what matters the size of a lie that grows

like a snowball speeding down a mountain? 

A small pretense dominoes into a chronic habit.

Hypocrisy of the self in every aspect of life

became an explosion of honesty,

no longer remaining behind a delusion. 

Secrets withered from lack of consistency,

leading me down a path of sincerity. 

Genuinely aiming to regain honor,

I sought out to be trustworthy once again.

Sometimes I relapse when asked how

I am doing in these unprecedented times,

but no matter how often the temptation arises,

I respond with unfiltered authenticity.