Callie

Lies.

They’re a fickle thing.

Why do we lie

to the ones we love?

My problem was

overwhelmingly evident.

I thought I would always have you.

Your purring at night was a comfort.

You were my best friend,

one who didn’t care about

all those little lies

that spewed from my young mouth.

I didn’t take the candy.

I didn’t leave the dog out.

Little things.

I thought your fur

would always consume my fingers.

The red-browns, blacks, and whites.

Fluff-ball cat, you lazed around.

You always let me play.

I never knew my lies

would hurt you,

or anyone.

Let alone,

myself.

I should have accepted responsibility

for the dumb actions of my young self.

Instead,

I blamed you.

My poor friend,

you were sent away in a cage

to be put in another.

Because of me.

From then,

my lies hurt myself

more than anyone else.

Every little lie was a reminder

of you.

Over time, Callie,

my lies shifted.

They became things for

good.

I would lie

to protect someone else.

My brother, my friend,

anyone my slightly older mind

thought needed “help.”

As time passed,

my lies faded

into the fog of my memories.

The temptation still arises

from time-to-time.

Then I remember

you.

Your memory

erases the temptation.