It started with a lie - (doesn't it always?)
Your eyes gave it away,
a flash of cold fire...
you were faking it, that smile.
The way you stood with him,
was posed, insincere, far too considered;
a catalogue photo of a feeling.
Who was it for? You? Him? - Everyone else?
The cipher was easily cracked:
ceraintly not a kiss that carried weight,
something planned, deliberate like
"liking" your own status updates.
Seven fractures for seven years
but it isn't my bad luck, seemingly
to "be" a thing is not to know it;
Love has no digital definition.
It is a millisecond or thousand years
or both at the same time and if it starts
with a lie, then a lie it will remain until
someone more photogenic comes along.