She can have anybody she wants, lost in this on-line dating
app where people constantly lie, when she insists on telling the truth. I read
all the bios of these unreal people and realize none of them are worth her time,
boating about this or that when her boasts by far outweigh anything they can
say, truth being the bone marrow she once boasted about, marrow that keeps our
blood flowing, as painful as this might be, and her truth hurts most because I
am not among those she would chose if she chose to choose. I won’t pretend to
know her inside and out. I see only the veneer, the shinny surface that draws
men like me to her, more than flies to honey, more like a bee to the deep-seeded
flower, assuming that if I could get deep enough inside there through whatever
possible orifice, I might stumble onto who she really is, hiding herself behind
the perception of truth. She doesn’t lie like all the others in this app, she
just leaves out those important details as to who she really is and what she
really wants, refusing to totally expose herself, perhaps too wary of those of
us who do not tell the truth at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment