Pretty Lines

Pretty Lines

I could almost feel it.
my fingertips brushed it, I think
but we were playing at love.
it wasn’t real
a connection that lived only in words,
in hollow plans and discarded dreams.
my happiest days with you
were without you;
getting lost in our work of fiction,
an enchanting story we created
of serendipitous love.
we hid between pretty lines,
each kiss, a perfect phrase.
but I only really loved you within those pages,
for who I believed you to be.
now the words have fallen silent
and I struggle to remember your face.
this empty bed, these bare walls,
threaten to swallow me whole.
but at least this emptiness is real,
something I can feel and touch.
it is with me constantly.
so keep your moments of something imagined.
I’ll take an eternity of nothing real.


6 thoughts on “Pretty Lines

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