Learning to Love Untruths

This is just a building,
I think, of artificial hopes,
built in the image
of a false prophet.
This is just a mountain
with rocky peaks,
sharp edges tempting
our elbows and knees.
These words you drip
lull me into a sleep
with hands folded
as if in prayer.
These anorexic embraces
and empty kisses
leave me dry desert sand.

The days dance
to inaudible music,
the nights slink by,
and I surrender my grip,
and wander away.