Sometimes the stories I create inside my head
Become so real
They fade into memories
Slotted neatly beside
The new dog bounding down the steps
And
The time my father cried when Danny died.
Thoughts that hide as mirages
Seen
In the fraction of a second when I blink my eyes
Too real to be true
Yet true enough to not quite be dismissed
A trickle of uneasiness when verity comes near
Bliss
When recollection drags the answer down
Into the warm embrace
Of all the reasoning that hides the lies
Inside my head

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