Cassie Osvatics holds a B.A. in English with a notation for the Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House in poetry at the University of Maryland. During her time at the university, she was a photographer and reporter for UMD Writer's Bloc and a concert photographer for Bandsintown. She is currently pursuing an M.F.A. in Creative Writing at American University. Her work can be found in 521 magazine.
You’re the only one I’ve lied to besides myself.
I’ve gotten really good at lying.
it’s one of my talents.
You’ve left bruises on the inside of my thighs
bit down too hard,
left none on my neck.
I didn’t lie about this.
the friend of mine I have sex with
when you don’t come to my dinner party giggles
you really weren’t kidding
the bite marks are much larger than she expected
I laugh and cover my face
I didn’t lie when I said I liked them
she bites my inner thigh
bites the bruises back
I wondered how I would lie to you about this
about how they had somehow gotten worse
how the mouth marks were different
I wondered if her lip stain would still be left behind the next time you saw me
it had, after all, left quite a mark on my mouth.
I would lie to you about it
say there was some other explanation.
you had made me a great liar.
I told her that you and I hadn’t had sex yet
that it was because of your medication
I said I was ok with this
I was sure that it wasn’t because of me
that you couldn’t get it up
But the bite marks you left on me are starting to heal
my scratching has drawn blood
I show them to you when I visit
you apologise for getting carried away
no notice of lip stain,
or change in bruising pattern
and when you apologize
for ignoring me
I really wish I hated you.
I wonder if you’re just as good at lying as I am.
Before I leave for work,
I help you pick out an outfit:
a blazer with elbow pads;
it makes you look older.
I tie your tie for you,
teaching you along the way,
wondering how you got this far without knowing.
you thank me with more bite marks before I go.