Guilt was always present
Behind all the reactions,
That became the undoing
Which seemed to follow honesty.
Feeling the culpability
Accompanying each heartbeat,
Coursing through the veins
Like fluid searing hot remorse.
That would pool behind the eyes,
Raising suspicion with a glance.
As though to see right inside
Through open windows to the soul.
Which then would be obvious
Not far beyond the smoke screen,
What peers out of inner shadows.
With bared fangs and claws,
And smell the dried blood
On a derelict conscience.
Caught in the area prone to lapse,
Parallel to honesty and goodness.
An abyss now laying between
All that, and wounded trust.
While the gap reeks of regret,
And the corpse of consequences.