Tears and questions

Cry. Cry. Cry.
The tears fall from your eyes in a crocodile manner that
You expect me to believe. If I only reach down your throat
And retrieve your heart from your chest, you’d appreciate
The painful predicament I’m in. Although I suppose that
If my hand were to dive in, I’d find no heart therein.

Lie. Lie. Lie.
The tears fall again and with no concept of what the
Truth is you tell me she’s just a friend, even though I’ve
Seen enough with my own eyes to know these are lies.
Again you tell me that you love me in the vain hope that
I’ll believe the words of a well-rehearsed liar.

Why. Why. Why.
I ask the question on repeat and you answer in neat little
Sentences that offer no explanation for my humiliation
Because, as you claim, you don’t know why you did it.
You don’t know you lied and why you hid it. And I don’t
Know why, after such embarrassment, I’d come back to you.