Pretend

I want to play pretend

 

You can be whoever you want to be.

Your hair can come back, and your body can be what it was

when we first fucked.

 

You can even last all night long, if that will make you happy.

 

Our house will be more than just this two room apartment, and the roof will not leak everytime it rains. 

 

Can't you just see it?

 

But most of all, I would still be in love with you.

 

I figure if I make believe for long enough, I will be able to forgive myself for seeing the magic in the eyes of the man who has replaced you.

 

How could  I?  He noticed my shoes and saw that our wedding band was cutting off my circulation and turning my finger blue.

 

We had cheap beer, ate crappy Mexican food. 

 

He told me his name was not important and I lied. I told him my name was Candace. 

 

 I wanted to believe that night would have been enough for me to live with.  I also desperately wanted him to buy my alibi, but you know as well as anyone, that I have never been that great at lying.

 

Now here I am, scribbling this on spiral notebook paper, chain smoking outside our apartment.  I suppose in a day or two's time your half of the closet will be empty and I am going to have to start forwarding your mail.

 

Unless of course God grants me this moment of clarity, and the fortitude to pretend this all away, and make believe for a moment that I want to.

 

 

Reviews

[bob, small b. aka invs]

i'm having trouble finding the words to react to this. reading it was like watching one of those sad movies where people just don't connect. star crossed lovers. or falling stars that blaze then die. the style is perfect. the words spare and well chosen. good stuff. if this and Dinner Party are autobiographical, seems you've had a rough time lately.