White lies
have ease and elegance,
simple serviceability,
just a papercut-
pop it in your mouth and suck on it,
it's gone,
melted as the sugar it was made of,
fleeting, and sweet.
Black lies
make a soup of human bones,
with no survivors.
The razor went in *here*,
the body landed *there*.
Everyone who tracked through the scene
has an inevitable tar
tracking after them, under their shoes,
poison steps across a winter meadow
that crackles with blood that was.
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