Smoke & Mirrors

I reached for something gleaming
thinking it a jewel
maybe I’m a fool, falling for
smoke and mirrors.

Real life is not as we dream
as night pulls down her shades
our days charades may end then too
when the last fascade finally
lays sleeping.

The moon was up all night
gave me a half-hearted smile
as she sat amid the early blue
maybe after painting the town red
she was also using those
smoke and mirrors to hide the
fact she should’ve already given
way to day and, gone off to her bed.

I was looking for someone
whose soul wasn’t there
in that soft fall of
cushion and clouds

Sometimes friendship
itself is the error
when make-up’s applied
so effectively
behind the
smoke and mirrors.


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