What if you were to test
the validity of my veracity?
Would you still love me,
or revert to despondency?
For my words, involuntarily libel,
will hurt once translated to fact.
I fight to stop the deceit,
a trait I have never lacked.
Or would there be blithe
as your love is a guile?
To keep me from morose
and the entrance to denile.
Perhaps my fabrications
are not lies, but true?
And you are one of them,
whose feelings lessened not grew.
If this is the way
then end it for you and me
Because this is not how
love is supposed to be.
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