The Blood & The Bones

pretend.

how often did you come here
looking to circumvent the repression of your reality?
to slide and float and drown in something
no other could fill the empty gorge with?
for an ear who actually heard you?
for a prompt to dream you were someone else’s?
that it was me you held, that you knew, that you tasted?

you were not the first to make me a pretend way out
a warped make believe
someone you’d play house with when your house got dark

you were never not hers
always a reason to return
you were never fully leaving
and at the time I hated myself so goddamn thoroughly
for not being enough for anyone to quit loneliness
or mistaken love
no other choice
I had become quite skilled at being the fantasy

and as I laid down with him
I pretended too
can a fantasy not also dream?
or want a warm body?
for at least I know well enough
the edges of false promises
to never
really be waiting

the blood
& the bones