forty-two lies

put your hand on my shoulder more abrupt than anyone has ever did
stop me while i’m walking down the street
ask me to tell you things about myself that aren’t true
i’ll quit walking and gleefully tell you:

i hate all things pink
i love the rain and the whiff of the coffee i drink
i find it adorable when people pronounce ‘jalapeño’ wrong
and pizza is definitely where pineapples don’t belong
i loathe how the taste of chocolate lingers on my taste buds
but my yearning for unbuttered popcorn pierces through a thousand hearts
i can never find my way around the sturdy guitar strings
but hand me a bow and a violin, a tour de force i shall bring
when it comes to physics concepts, there’s nothing i don’t know
and to be frank, english undoubtedly is my least favourite lingo
shake shack or mcdonalds, there’s no burger i will swallow
and don’t even get me started on fries, nuggets and tacos
i’m comforted by the sight of unaligned tiles on the floor
and can’t stop expressing my disdain for scents of an old, used bookstore
in many ways i’m a makeup junkie who shops until she drops
and there’s always lipstick on my lips, a shocking red that pops
i’m faster than usain bolt even when i’m walking
and everybody knows i’m smarter than stephen hawking
mix-ups between “your” and “you’re” are just so delightful
those who don’t use radical signs as ticks are really plain fools
i abhor the sight of tabs strewn across the screen until there’s no end
and in all honesty, autocorrect is pretty much my best friend
i have yet to mention how comic sans is my favourite font to type in
and it’s amazing when people don’t check their captions before posting
at school, i have an ardency to pin my hair up
and broadway musicals are simply not my cup
of tea. tea—another thing i hate
though i love the way the circles on the math test rotate
i revel in physical education
i’m the best ballerina you’ll ever see in action
the joy i feel when shoes by the door are scattered all over the place
relaxation devours me when the humid weather kisses my face
nails on a chalkboard help me sleep at night
and i hate rollercoasters because i’m afraid of heights
i like the sight of rows of needles and the way blood pools
and i really do agree that a cigarette between your fingers makes you look cool
with my colours and paintbrushes, there’s no mise en scène that i can’t capture
and when people chew with their mouths wide open, i listen with rapture
randomly hugging me without my consent sounds like the perfect treat
if you ask me to walk alone at night, i’ll assent without skipping a beat
never in my life have i ever fallen in love with a guy
ask me to write, and i’ll tell you i’d rather die

in my clockwork brain, i think this is why words exist
trained by hands, typewriters and keyboards to deceive
i’d cachinnate at you if you actually believed
a single alphabet in this poem i’ve upheaved