friday the thirteenth.


I pretend the pillow next to me still holds your shape.

I pretend that comfy mass is you, safely wrapping me up,

Enfolding me within you while I dream.

I pretend you still need me, or even want to

Need me. I pretend that you’ll wonder where

I am when we’re not together.

I pretend that all this is a joke,

And that whatever she says to you you spit

Back in her face.

I pretend I am different, that

I am not like all the others you’ve deserted only

So you can sulk in your corner, lonely

And bothered. I pretend

It doesn’t bother me when you act like I’m not

There. I pretend there’s

Still hope, when all there is is

Still-hope, stagnant.

I pretend you’ll come around

Soon enough, ready to take me in,

Drink me up with each kiss, each hand on my face.

I pretend these things are real,

And maybe, not just hopeless


3 thoughts on “friday the thirteenth.

  1. mmmm, that’s a good point. Dibs! I guess I went with ‘friday the thirteenth’ only cause it’s so damn notorious for being unlucky that everything associated with it is automatically worse, and therefor, more fun…

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