My Truth?

What is truth if not a force, of passion and of life, of course? Which only seeks itself to prove, can that be used to make reprove? I cannot see why matters this, which hurts, to me, more and ends a kiss. The kiss which started from a lie, still lands softly on face, on closed eye. Can it be said to mean aught more, than what we've claimed it meant before? Is there some power in't, or is the better, the bringer of greater benefit?