The Truth That Was

It’s often said, ” Artists use lies, to tell the truth…” Here’s one that I tried in this short poem as The Unreliable Narrator, written as a part of  The Poetry Society, UK.  The Truth That Was ‘I was the type of the child Who gazed at the dark sky And loved the color purple.’ “That I was beautiful And would own a prince” They said at Sunday mornings. “She held amethyst beneath, Calm in influence, Mellifluous in tone and seraphic her smile  Always gentle, Always polite.” The truth that was I will not tell you why she loved that loneliness....