She tried to think of what to say to make it all better again, or at least the way it was before she'd made her confession, though she didn't regret having confessed. Perhaps that was what had been wrong with her all along. Now that the lie wasn't between them anymore, maybe she could love him again.
I had a dream about you. You tried to stretch the truth like a midget on the rack, and I was looking to buy clothes off the discount rack. The truth had left me naked, exposed, and feeling cheap, while you were wearing a bright lie as casually as a nudist wears a smile. Your lie may have covered you for the moment, but I smiled because I knew winter was coming, and I was about to buy all the warm clothes.
I am smiling a big adopted-orphan smile as I write this ... I still love scribbling the word - WRITER - any time on a form, questionnaire, document asks for my occupation. Fine, I write personality quizzes, I don't write about the Great Issues of the Day, but I think it's fair to say I am a writer ... ('Adopted-orphan smile', I mean, that's not bad, come on.)
I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours.
Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...