secret rendezvous — a poem

what does it mean to promise
something you don't have?
does it make you a con man?
or just hopeful?

empty promises. empty words.
I’m not the answer you thought
you would find here.
but I’m not the question, either.

I can't bend myself
into your favorite thing.
but I still try when we're alone
and no eyes are peering at us,
watching.

What would people say?
What if they know?
Our secret rendezvous,
no longer a secret.
My lies, no longer the truth.