Truth

        Maybe I don't want to know the truth.  The lies are safer, they are easily digested past the knot that becomes my intestines every time you speak to me. Don't think  for one second that I don't know,or that I don't think about it. Don't think that the thought hasn't crossed  my mind a damn near hundred times as I replay the same scenario over and over and over again. In sickness and even in health I have difficulty judging reality from fantasy. My heart and mind still play those little girl fairy tale games, where I dream of prince charming and candy coated rainbows. I need to be blind sometimes.
         I will think until my head hurts. I will find a way to blame myself for crimes that I did not commit. The things I had done in the name of love. I screw things up, lots of  things...I bob and weave, I weeble and wobble,  I generally always fall down,  but I indefinitely ALWAYS get back up. I can forgive me, my diseased mind. I can justify every move I  make. It is you I can not disregard. I have to know why...Why the half truths...because they weren't all lies. The look on your face screams innocence but your hands are in cold blood. Where did your mind wander off to when you were staring in my eyes. Did you have to convince your conscience to look away because you could not stand to feel the pain that was living behind my freshly mascaraed eye lashes.
        I can not see through you. I never wanted to, I still  don't want to. That takes the purity away. This blindness ruins us, this I know, but it is also the only thing that keeps me coming back. If I choose to acknowledge every disobedient moment then I assure you I could not allow myself to continue to return back to you time and time again. For now I will trust that my instincts will let  me know when the pain has gotten to great to bear, and that God will tell me when its time to come back home.