Confessions.

Every time you ask if I write about you, if I've created a character for you in my fictional world, if you're in my words and stories and lyrics like you're in my dreams, I say no. Every time you ask me, your voice masked by a condescending overtone, your lips pursed, waiting for an answer to boost your ego, I say no. Every time you jokingly ask me, not really meaning anything by it, not really caring either way, I say no. I say no, I say no again. Exasperated, aggravated, I say no.

Lying to you is difficult.