You dare me to, knowing in fact I've never been very daring. I stretched the meanings over the truth time after time until every white lie began to sound like a rhyme, like a song I once sang when waiting. And only in waiting had I ever sang before reason gave way to meaning.
I never pulled the line back after drawn, before the demonstration I hadn't known the boundaries were made to push. And pushing, pulling to discover there are in fact good reasons why adults keep their true statements written in ink and under wraps. There's no such thing as a "fact" if you're going by definition. And if I'm defining my own silver lining, then you're refining my needs for such luck.

If it is, then it is..

If it ain't, then it ain't. And it isn't ever what's expected, written in needle-point on a rag.

What's left from saturday night, on wednesday morning. Just buzzing on the sobriety before the storm..

When I'll sink my ship.

& if it is, then it is, darlin'.

If it ain't then it ain't

and I'm not placing my bets by the marks on your face.

Because you study me harder when you're grades are fallin',

and you tell me it's hard to concentrate on her when I keep callin' you darlin'.

She ain't so fair, and she isn't aware of the fingerprints left in the dust.

Just to see if you'll notice. And if you don't, you don't.

If you don't want something, you won't.

Sugar, please listen up. You're coffee's dark, and I've sweetened your cup.

But there ain't no candy coating when the morning comes.

So it was written in a letter, sent with a dime found in the floorboard in cold months by fingertips so numb, you couldn't feel me squeezing your hand when the phone rang.

So it rang.

If it is, than it is. 

And I'm guessin' it ain't.

So it' ain't.

The truth is
The phone rings and no one would answer.
And in honesty, it was probably heard when it rang.
The truth is
Though I've written about it before,
It still wasn't written honestly.
The truth is
I might have been in love
But only in love with what once was possible,
But would have never been.
So maybe that's why I can't sleep.
Maybe that's why I still keep the secrets, buried steep
In stern silence.
Yet with no rewards to reap.