BLACK YARNS

You gawped at my eyes like you can't make me state otherwise.
For a second, you tricked me into thinking you can find out.
But I knew you won't because we've done this before.
So there I was, still and composed, unpredictably natural.

It all started when you asked me if I was alright.
I was on your bedside. You were smiling yet hardly breathing.
I was a kid. But how can I not let all those white yarns fly
When all I wanted was to ease your agony by saying I'm fine?

For summers it went on like a natural God-given talent.
At a snail's pace, I learned how to tell black ones, too
Not because I didn't want to hurt you or anyone;
I discovered it was a secret to burying an unraveled identity.

I mastered the furtive trick to my black yarn business---
You can't catch me through the windows to my soul.
I know how to hide evidence, and to weave them when there's none.
I know how to go around vicious circles, and I concede never.

Should I be shamefaced, mortified that I find fault in it not?
Tell me, mother, because at this point I just couldn't stop
I did it to you; to him; to ME, without any compunction.
The yarns, now all black, just did not leave any gap for guilt.

So who am I? Am I only somebody you thought I was?
Or 'somebody' I just made myself believe I was?
The story behind my story, I know not now if it ever existed.
It wasn't you; but believe me--- I know not now what to believe. #

photo credit: leadershipfreak