lip service

Women are strong. They invest in love so much ...

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by Madeline Laughs

I feel the lip service cross over my light on my face like a cloud covers the sun.

This avowal of service, this promise to adhere, this agreement to agree merely words flooding the pristine moment of truth. Truth blurs until it disappears behind the almighty and easily distributed lip service. Saved again from having to live up to any kind of righteousness, the fearful can march along feeling they have paid their dues by speaking aloud their intentions, even though they have no idea how to fulfill the commitments they throw like frisbees into the surf.

How many times must I protest? But you promised! But you said! But that’s not what we agreed to do! I stand strong in my convictions shining disappointment in your eyes and you stand strong in your reasoning and excuses while holding your hand to block the blinding illumination of your failure to follow through. I want to slap your hand away. I want you to be blind. I want it to burn away this need you have to make me happy, but only in short bursts, never for a lifetime.

I want to be happy for a lifetime. 

You pull the desperate and the needy to your breast because you are just as destitute in character as they are. I watch as they masturbate to your pain and suffering and there is nothing more I can do to keep you from drowning. Leaning over the edge of safety with my arm dipped well below the surface, reaching for you is all I have left. You show me your face. You release the bubbles of life as you sink further down into the abyss that you know so well. Your breathe surfaces and small puffs of your last words move the damp tendrils of my hair whispering once again the glossy patina of your lip service.

I lean farther over the side and plead with you. Take my hand. Live while you can. It’s right there, just below the surface of the hell you’ve made for yourself. There’s not much time left as my fingers prune and the numbness from the cold sets in, all of those dreams are dying.

Lowering my expectations will never be the answer. Why would you think you could live up to the lower rung of the definition of what is and what is not acceptable? You can’t even tell the truth from the fiction at the moment. I hear one thing and watch you do something entirely different. As ladders go, you haven’t begun to climb. You dance around beneath like a child with shoes on fire.

Lying with the innocence of youth has long ago left behind wrinkles and cracks in the facade you call an expression of purity. You swear in pride that you only speak the truth, but I hear the tinkling of pretty broken promises as they rattle against each other. The music they make masks your inability to be the person you keep telling me you are. I am seduced by the sound they make. I want to close my eyes and listen as they reach the fevered pitch that lulls me into a hypnotic state of acceptance.

That is how much I care.

I would give away my own truth to live within yours.

Lip service caresses my cheek and crushes a tear. It leaves purple and green bruises in it’s path as it whirls around the shell of my tiny ears. Spinning tornadoes pierce my lobes and gain speed as they send a pornographic movie deep into my brain. Transfixed by naked lies and fallacies my own eyes become cloudy and I can no longer tell the difference between what my belly holds and the blue color of the sky.

Lip service thumbs a small line of drool from my slack jaw. My gullet is full to the brim with hearing what you think I need to hear and I have lost the will to swallow any more.  My own body revolts against the bombardment of prissy pelting promises and moves in the jerky efforts of escape like a Michael Jackson Thriller. I am not complacent to your version of truth, I am merely biding my time.

Deep within my heart I wonder if this was the girl that drew you in like a moth to the flame. Does this shell of who I used to be make you love me more? Am I more attractive draped in a veil of gullibility?

Following your dance with my cataract eyes, I have stopped listening to what you say and I now watch what you do instead. Listless and dull I can only sit idly and wait to regurgitate the indigestion churning the life out of me. I must be strong. I must climb back into the sunlight of what I know to be true and shed all that is dark. I breath in and I breath out and I wait.

Conserving my strength to walk away.

Note from the author~

Falling victim to lip service happens to all of us. The need someone has to fill your head with deception disguised as love is not about you. It is your allure of what life means and living with the light, rather than blocking it out, that brings them closer. Some of us blaze as beacons in the dead calm of darkness and draw them in for an embrace. Our only choice then is to hold them accountable or to let them fly away. Never lower your standards to be close to someone that does not hold the truth of you higher than they hold the fantasy of themselves.

About Madeline Scribes

A writer with a sense of humor. If anyone can laugh at life, it's me.
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