To Every Walking Girl. Poem by Delilah Miller

Oh, the lies you spew!
The rhymes you pen,
promises made,
bank loans, and wedding rings, and I.O.Us…
All duplicities that soon fade.

Silver-tongued and shimmering,
in sunlight gold and green,
you slice my chest,
Part my lips and I taste metal, cold as a silver ring.
A hand in my hand, a mess in my mess.

The accusation you distribute;
false down to details.
Proclamations and rewards you recruit:
Untrue to each whom rise or fail.
Three accustomed words and monogamy to boot.
You, shockingly, are entirely untrue.
To me;
to the moon, the sky and stars, and the sun;
to every walking girl.
And even to you.