Lie to me.
Give me all of your sweet, crystallized, honeycomb lies.
Give me your sugar cube fallacies and honeysuckle fantasies, your saccharine lullabies that drip from your mouth as if nothing else were more real, your blissfully ignorant pleas of love and life.
Give me them all, I want them all, I need them all. And when I am done drinking every last drop of proffered salvation from your sweet lips, I’ll turn and damn myself straight to hell even still.
I love your lies, I always have and I always will, but they are not enough to live on.


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