She is a liar.
She lies to save herself but she lies to save you, too.
The words that roll off her tongue pierce her heart, either because she hates that she's too weak to be real
Or because, with every falsity, she burrows the truth deeper so that she doesn't have to show you any dark sides.
When the eyes turn to her finally, she feels her heart sing with relief
But the whirlpool in her belly and the thunderstorm in her head bar the truth once more from ever passing her lips
As if she didn't deserve to speak it.
No; she can't stop.
Because those tight lips save you from the truth and they don't get cut on the sharp edges.
She leaves shattered glass shards in the pit of her heart and decides that she'll take yet another to the grave.
But doesn't she know the coffin is filling up?
Once all the air is gone and replaced with what she has made herself in to,
She will know that she didn't need the little white lies.
She never did.
But, of course, when you're a coward, it's already too late.
You're damned the moment you become a liar.