Conversations by Keana Águila Labra

Here I am, lying in the sun, rotting, unable to move. I left the Truth on the table, hoping that you would notice. But Truth also lives in your eyes, my love, and I know you are more attracted to the Lie. I let you dance with her day and night. But deep in the recesses of my mind, Truth and I hold our affair. I bite his cheek, his smile is so close it polishes my teeth. He keeps me clean.

Hold me tight. I want to be so close that the rest of my tears are pressed right out of me. I whisper dangerous things into Truth’s ears, and with each word, he plunges the knife deeper into my heart.

I don’t know if I can keep quiet anymore.

I stitch x’s over my lips and pretend they are your kisses. I see color behind closed eyes, and I pray to myself that I am not insane. And I take Lie’s hands and place them over my heart. I beckon her close; we are nose-to-nose. I can see why you love her. She is beautiful, from head to toe. I admit, I love her too.

I look her dead in the eye, and pull my cheeks into a smile.

She laughs. The Truth is on the table, but you only stare at the Lie that stains my breast.

Lie and I speak in unison.

“I am not sad.”

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