A Reluctant Ghost

Your lies are not as sweet to me as they once were
The lips that once contrived to keep me close
Tenderly dropping candied deceits upon my tongue
Now speak far worse untruths to keep me away

They blow through me like a searing desert wind
Turning me into a reluctant ghost, and so they pass
Whilst I sit still, watching them swirl like devils
Leaving behind only empty words, finer than dust

But a ghost might yearn to haunt the former heart
Drifting, seeking out home or garden, long ago lost
Unless it finds what it haunts is a ghost unto itself . . .
Once loved, be soothed; if never so, enraged

Dissembling claims of virtue are for naught, for
Nary time enough exists amongst your deeds
For you to be as good and pure as you believe or
To wash another fool's kisses from your mask

Your truth is now the sweetest lie against new lips
Yet sweetest only to the first-time taster, but just once
My truth tastes acrid, bitter; I revel in my distance, as
I watch a cyclone of empty words embrace you.