I don't love you anymore
but we can still play pretend.
I'll kiss you and hug you and giggle
like I did when we were 13.
I'll let you do other things too;
I always have,
I always will.
Even though it feels like nothing.
It feels black and empty.
Soulless, heartless.
Ha.
Even lying I can still tell the truth.
Can you?
Can you tell me something true?
Really true?
Like the words we whispered in the dark,
when my parents weren't home,
when our bodies were pressed close,
breathing and feeling like everything was
alright.
Quite alright.
Too alright.
Because it felt like a fake story being told,
like a twisted and fucked up imagination
groping at my tiniest desires.
Poking and prodding them until they twitched
like dying cockroaches under an eternal light.
But bitter fairytales make sweet nightmares
that you lull me away from with your soft words
and gentle "I love you's"
Well I love you too
And we both know how much lies count.