Fiction

You can see me I'm a piece of fiction
but you read between the lines
so you say. You know the plot
you can see it in my eyes.
It's just the things we remember
we were told when we were young.
The only reason that there is for living
is so the dying can be done.

You put on your dancing shoes
with the country boys back home.
And all your ghosts of past
are restless on the phone.
You say, "Reflections are merely
a tale of a million lies."
Is it only your nonchalance
which your audacity defies?

I tell you, "When you're old
and I'm swinging on the angels' star,
I'll come back to kiss you
where you believe you are."
At first you laugh and look at me
as if I've slapped your face.
But, I read you like an open book
and I haven't lost my place.