Don’t Tell Me

Don’t tell me
the truth of the matter,

I might just choose not
to believe you, anyway,

I tend to avoid, all
matters of the heart,

You’ve blocked all entry
and restricted access
not allowing me
to escape your desire

Don’t tell me
you’ve swallowed the key
the one to my heart,
although the truth does seem
to escape now and then,

Smiling, smug
knowing how difficult
you’ve made things
by ruining my plans
of indecision, and avoidance
-not wanting to admit to myself

-not admit to you,

Don’t tell me
what you’ve known before,

-or, I might have to
in my own way, and time
accept your truth

-as something being
self evident

Don’t tell me
okay?

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Author: notthedane56

My heathen tendencies are waiting to blossom at the Mid-Summer Evening in Denmark. In a Country that professes to have an overwhelming population of believers in the Christian Faith, I am always reassured by their pagan ways, at least one night per year. I won't be throwing myself on the bonfire, but I plan on being warmed by the thoughts of the fun-loving Danes, burning witches at the stake, while singing songs and drinking beer!

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