The Hanging of Deception

 

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Is that my face
or is it the mirror’s blunt edged humour?
It could just be the wrong time.
Neither of us are flattered whether it be night or day.
The rag washed painted wall supports the fraud
and cracks under the strain.
Fine lines and powdered plaster filter through
the flitting sunlight –
deft breezes see the masquerade and thwarts
its attempts to settle –
they are blown
far and away, and she thinks of him.
Is that the time,
or another deceitful ploy to disrobe my mind?
He asks her if it would be so wrong to imagine
both of them pale in the gleeful shadows of morning,
but ingrained memories of loose women smear
the bed sheets; fine lines and perfect powder
are reapplied and she flits into the sunlight.
Jealous elements scowl and tumultuous rain
washes her away – sins follow.
Far away, she still thinks of him.

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Author: Anita Lubesh

I write poetry/prose/stories/short stories/verses for children/sketch/and have 6 chapters of a novel sitting there like that half eaten trifle in the fridge or bottle of Jack Daniels because something makes you afraid to eat it or drink... right now.. I am a proud Geordie from England's northern hemisphere and the beautiful city of Newcastle upon Tyne. I live with my lovely husband who came all the way from sunny California just for me, and my favourite animal, Bobble, our dog. I am a member of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth and wish we could all do more, especially today, when such a lot is wrong.

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