Decompression

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.