Buried with the Truth

I know all of the hard thoughts that crowd your pretty head
or at least I used to
I know there is a jar of pickled promises preserved for anyone to
peruse visually
I used to
But I guess I don't know you
Like I thought I did
I guess I don't know you now
or the person I was with
So many years ago
What was it 93?
When you said you embarked on this strange odyssey
Turned your lack of self respect into a sad fantasy
From which you cannot return
Will you ever learn?

I know hope is still somewhere around
Lying dormant in your dignity's lost and found
I say this though I know you hate the sound
of my voice
of my cries
of my choice to be
A simple man who could love God primarily
How you wish it could be like it was in our memory
But that was a lie
Wrapped in a lie
A fallacious waste of time

And with the truth, you in some way have buried me