blue lies

My mother’s lips are blue

My father told us never to mention it

They weren’t always blue

We sit at the dinner table and eat in silence

Forks clack against ceramic plates

My mother’s red wine turns her lips purple

I have learned to hate the color

The lies she tells are blue as well

They are sad and bitter and as deep as the sea

The lies I tell are white

Embellishments and lip service and immaterial

We sit at the dinner table and eat in silence

I clack my fork against my ceramic plate

Twirling my pasta, convinced of my purity

Blue crocodile tears drip out of my eyes

My mother’s purple lips turn up at the corners

The lies I tell are blue as well

They are scheming and self-serving and without remorse

My tongue, my cheeks, my dreams are blue

I cannot register what is true

We sit at the dinner table and eat in silence

I have leaked all over the table cloth

And dripped onto the floor

My mother sets her fork down

Blots her lips with a white napkin

The blue comes off as well

She looks almost normal