Beauty Lies

I still believe in beauty.  That’s the lie
of all my lies I like the very best.
Such innocent semantics; I could cry
at how it pulses warmth into my chest.
This chemical reaction makes me blind
to memories of memories of you,
and in the lie of beauty I can find
the truth of every lie I ever knew.
I’m blind because my eyes are filled with tears
which bear their witness to the lies I love.
Their warmth, exquisite pain, their beauty sears
my cheeks.  The lie is all I’m thinking of
in disbelief which beauty-lies negate
and truth becomes the object of my hate.

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