We are liars, all and often, lying

in folds familiar, hoping

for holds to fill the failure,

settled into settlements

we never wanted but thinking

something, anything, this thing

is better than nothing, while

the Poet prefers to pen

the pessimism than to perish

with it. And still we are liars,

the pen turns thoughts

into reasons, into rough sketches

and in turn we soften the edges

with subtle suggestions

to make the truth more soluble,

the lie more acceptable.

We are all laying in masks

of mistrust, mistruths, the more

we take off- the more we build up.

Clothes cover only the concept

of identity; eyes can be distracted, tongues

can be thought to taste

what they are told, ‘I am forever,’

he said and she licked his longing

that left her not long after. ‘I am

comfort,’ she confided as she set

her claws into his confusion.

And the lie goes on forever,

like the sky; consistently blue

until it’s black, streaked

with bright stars already burning out.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

9 thoughts on “BURNING STARS 

  1. merrildsmith

    The bright stars burn out, but we still see their beauty many years later. Is that a lie or truth from another perspective?

  2. Stefanie Neumann

    Once more you’ve stated it perfectly, dear Dami!
    Kim and I have been discussing similar thoughts, today…
    I agree with Merril – love that image. 🐝
    Hugs from Hamburg and much Love,

    1. deuxiemepeau

      Facebook has a picture part where you can play with your pictures and I can up with this one and was very happy with it! Love from Paris 🤗🤗

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