Duplicity (an insincere sonnet)

Poetical devices are my jam:
a syncope’s apostrophe to ‘lide
a truth untold (and all the times I lied),
a metaphor barred tight with planks from jamb
to jamb, a rhyme, a volta, an iamb,
and shifting sounds that make your tongue feel tied.
A kitchen sink to drain the swirling tide
of all the words that follow from “I am. . . .”
But oh, if I could only bore a hole
soul-deep and dredge my sins for you to weigh
against my feather-pleasures and plume-pains!
I’d throw my shutters wide to let the whole
world see inside if I could find a way
to strip the silver from my window panes.

Welcome to my mind!

Neboola