Relative truth...

Relative Truth

As a man,

my truth is relative —

relative to the feelings

I never quite express,

shifting shape

depending on who stands before me.

I'd love to make all people happy,

the way the world expects of me,

but I was never built

to play that role completely.

Relative truth catches up.

Not lies — I want to be clear on that —

just fragments,

shaped by time, by space,

by who was in the room

when I chose what to say.

But for the one

who occupies my heart fully,

there is no fragment left to give.

She gets all of it —

relative or not,

the whole truth,

finally undivided.