You Never Lied To Me

James Keane

You never said

I’m leaving now. When

you did, your eyes stay behind

to remind me. You never said

I will never be back. When

you weren’t, your eyes remain

silent and slack. You

never said, what a thrill

it was, beating you

to a bluish black. If it was,

your eyes never tell me.

You never said

I despised you, though your eyes

are open for eternity.

Your eyes never say

I love you. But

you never lied to me.

---

James Keane lives in northern New Jersey with his wife and son and a menagerie of merry pets. His poems have most recently appeared in Gold Dust, The Houston Literary Review, Taj Mahal Review, The Chimaera, and the anthology, Harvests of New Millennium.

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