On your coming of age

"I'm telling you stories. Trust me."
Jeanette Winterson, Art and Lies, p.71


Sweetie,

let me read you
(like a father, mother to a daughter)
stories that you’ll feel inside
are true. All happy ever afters,
ending with a goodnight kiss
that tells you I'm still me
and you're still you.

Darling,

let me write you
(like an old familiar friend)
long letters full of what will be
and what is now,
of who we are,
not what we were
or how.

Honey,

let us tell each other
(like a pair of naughty children)
lies about our selves,
our names, our natures,
all the things we say and do,
and always knowing inwardly
that every word is true.