A curtain hangs between us,
a fabric of deception,
a grainy, textured falsehood
almost undetected.
Your words have been selected
so carefully, I find
this linen-like expression
of neatly woven lines.
A closeness you surrender
every time you move.
Your touch is soft and tender
but my skin remains unsmoothed.
Flimsy and thin,
they’re easily told
and easier wrinkled.
I see them unfold…
The truth comes not between us.
The truth I never know.
Just linen lies that keep us
from feeling what we show.
April 20, 2001
Jill-Arcangela Mancuso 
This poem was submitted to Poetry.com back in 2001 when I wrote it. It was published later than year in their annual collection. Somewhere in these heaps of papers, I have another one that made the cut a year or two later. These days, this poem reads like a greeting card to me. My style has changed so much. This was sort of born in the years of early exploration with word play but I was still too nervous to step out of stanzas and meters – a revelation that liberated my expression and forever changed my approach and flow when writing poetry. Still, it is a neat little poem… One of the better products of those years.
Thanks for sharing this. Nicely written, beautiful. Enjoyed the read… Thanks.
Thank you for reading. I’m glad you enjoyed it.