Make Believe

What I hate
is the pretending.
You pretend
that I’m in the past
when I’ve always been
the present.
Your words betrayed you
too many times
for the facade not to crack
at least a little.

I never forgot about you…just so you know…not for a minute.

A simple sentiment
that spoke
a lifetime’s worth
of regret.
But you still pretend,
hide your truth behind
quiet ballads
sung by your fingers
and guitar strings.

I pretend
that your silence
doesn’t hurt,
that this separation
will ease someday
when I know it never will.
It never could.
I meander through these
blue and white days
hoping people
can’t see your apparition
hovering under my skin.
I smile
and wave
and die a little more
because this haze
of unreality
won’t dissipate
or dissolve.
Instead I keep pretending
that your words
mean nothing
when they actually
mean everything.

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