Zhuang Yisa

even if I lied

reading my poems
         the man I love
my father
         asks me
not dissimilar to
         having read my poem
my all-too-brief lovers
         if I still do, knowing
thinks he knows me
         I would not
by the words
         hurt him
by which, it is supposed, I chose
         even if
to reveal my thoughts
                                     I lied

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