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Debbie Brindley Sep 2018
Let me pretend our life is normal
there's no illness here
As I lay beneath the covers
with you
my dear

Under the covers
On a chilled mornings day
outside beyond our window
children are at play
Freshly brewed coffee
drifting in on the air
As we lay
beneath the covers
without a care

Spring flowers bloom
their perfume
dancing in on the breeze
Hear the Kookaburras laughing
outside in the trees
Dogs bark in the distance
a few streets away
But under the covers
nice and cosy
is where we shall stay

Till it's time to get started
on our day ahead
But for now I'm quite content
under the covers with you
in our bed
Pretending  life is  normal
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2015
Pretend a moment that you’re me
and write a poem I might see.
Pretend a moment that you’re me.

Pretend a moment that I’m you.
Pretend I read your poem through.
Pretend what happens when I do.
Are you pretending? Good. Me too.

Pretend the poem tells a tale
of wooden ships with painted sails.
Pretend the sky, the salty breeze,
the creak of decks, the swelling seas,
the cutlass singing past your ear!
Quick! Pretend us out of here!

Pretend the road. Pretend the trees,
the horse between your grasping knees,
the flashing river at your side—
Ride neck and neck with hounds from Hell!
Pretend, at least, we live to tell!

Pretend the West, the dust, the gold.
Pretend the sleeve. The ace it holds.
Pretend the six-guns drawn at noon!
Pretend we’re somewhere else! And soon!

Pretend the sky, the sunset sea.
Pretend the dunes, the grass, a tree.
Pretend you’re walking there with me.
Pretend the gulls that dot the swells.
Pretend the tales tomorrows tell.

Shall we pretend
Shall we pretend
to dream?
ThePoet Nov 2015
A sadness I had

created for myself

that only killed my

heart in the end,

was I never had you

to have lost you

and I can't blame you

for my pretend.
William Eberlein Feb 2013
I remember when
we used to play pretend.

Running around the house
was our time.
For us, and no one else.

Often we would play "War,"
with guns,
and tanks,
and planes.

One of us would pretend to die,
one of us would pretend to win.

The victor would stand over the body of the other.
Arms would be raised in triumph.

But on this day,
I stand over your body once again.

Not in triumph,
But in turmoil and misery.

I am not the winner of a pretend game...

I am the loser of this reality.

A pawn to this sick existence.

I realize now,
that this is for real.

I cannot bring you back with tickles and laughs.

Not this time.

You are gone,
and I would give anything
to have you at my side
one more time.

I need an ally
to help me fight this war.

This war that I face alone.
Grace Dec 2015
Maybe this is what trust is
Your scorching hands
Searing my shoulder blades
“I could if I wanted to”
Turned my insides gray

Thirteen year old skin
Stretched thin
Ached to peel away
Where your fingers had played

I was an instrument
But that’s not how I preform
I can only make symphonies now

I loved you
With every pulse behind my skin
Blood didn’t have to make the bond
My protector
Becomes the predecessor to all my fears

If you’d press your ear against my chest
A reverberation of no’s would pound your eardrum
Freshly thirteen
Stolen firsts
I can never right again

“Don’t act like you don’t want it”
But it was you
Who mastered in pretend
Every word I write makes you more and more fictional.
I need to pretend that I'm dying,
and I don't have much time left to live,
'cause if I don't do what I came here for,
I may miss the one chance I have.

I've seen my friends go in a heartbeat,
their life's purpose still left undone.
Dear God, I don't want that to happen to me!
Help me to sing my own song.

Sometimes I can act like it's nothing,
pretending I never will die.
I want to believe that I'll live here forever--
Why do I insist on this lie?

I know that I've got to keep writing--
it's the gift that my heart longs to give,
and if I have spent my life writing
I won't care so much how long I'll live.

The way that I want to be feeling
when Death comes to take me away
is satisfied that I've finished my work,
that I've said all that I have to say.

I keep getting sidetracked by something--
when I look at it square in the eye
I see it's fear that I''m not good enough
to make a great poem of life.

You know that I want to write deeply
from the spirit of love here inside.
How can my heart sing when I bury my own
spirit behind fear and pride?

I know that great love and great writing
can flow from You through my heart--
I open it wide, please help me right now
To focus my life and my art.
Written 1998.
Copyright 2011, by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved.
Poetria Feb 2017
My favourite version of reality
is the one inside my head.

I know I'm only talking crazy,
we all have those days; pretend.

Pretend your brain is just a stage,
and you have something to prove.

Pretend there are all these people living
inside this world you always choose.

Pretend the life outside yourself
is just the place you go to sleep.

Pretend that when your eyes are closed,
that's the life you want to keep.

Pretend nobody out here is real,
and live like a silent mystery.

Pretend the Earth is your asylum
and keep trying to run free.

This pretending thing is great,
you will soon begin to see.

Live life a little brighter,
*just pretend along with me.
You have to know I write about you
There’s no way that you don’t
I’d say I’d let you read this
But I know that I won’t
I’d say I don’t look for you
But we both know that’s not true
Every time you’re around me
I don’t know what to do
I’m counting down the days
Until we make this move
Maybe I won’t see you
But what would that prove
I know that this is wrong
But I want to know your feelings
But what if I don’t want to hear
The information you’d be revealing
We go back and forth
Like this is some kind of game
And I don’t know that it’s not
And what if you feel the same
We are getting so close
What happens when this ends
Do we move on like it never happened
And continued to pretend
PoserPersona Jul 2018
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon,
then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin.
Captain Red is ready for adventure.
A quest to collect the world's best treasure.

His pirate crew is renowned far and wide.
They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry.
But none of them boys has the captain's stuff.
So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.

This motley crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.

"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch
and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche.
These rolling green hills are now ocean waves.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
"Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne.
Impeding the journey that just began.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn.
Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide.
They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie.
But none of these girls has commander's stuff.
So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.

This brainy crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.

"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch
and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche.
These rural backyards are now rocky space.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
"Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin.
Impeding the flight before it begins.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn.
Boys and girls grow up and out the front door.
Those children’s games evolve to adult chores;
those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
Dark Aug 6
Tell me that you love me even if it's a lie
Tell me you Won't leave me , even it's for a while
Hold me a little longer and make it seem right
Kiss me like it's first but make it last a night
And act like I am the one, even if it's till tonight.
sian Feb 19
I want to be touched
Even if it’s pretend
Even if you don’t mean it
Touch me gently
Run your fingertips across my skin
Hold me tighter and tighter
Kiss me softly whilst you hug me
Even if it’s pretend
Even if you don’t mean it
Tell me you love me
zoie marie lynn Jul 2018
you’ll tell me you love me
and then when you leave
i’ll pretend the whole time that i didn’t see it coming.
i wish i didn't let you leave
Aléa Boodoo Jan 30
Let’s play a game of pretend
Where I don’t have to acknowledge our end
When heartbreak was a distant stranger
When loving too fast was the only danger
When the walls were non-existent, and we ignored the suggested lines
I’ll go back to when I didn’t have to lie by calling you mine
Then I could hug you one more time, and I’ll get to say all the things that I wanted to say
Like I did, I’d always remind you of my undying love. I’d acknowledge your perfection every day
I wouldn’t mind getting the chance to fall in love with you again
For you, I’ll take every rule possible, and find a way to make it bend
I’d make you sing your favorite songs, again, and again for me. Just because I can
Every day I’d remind you that even if the world is against you, I’d still be your biggest fan
I’d be able to say your name, and keep my eyes dry because I’m pretending you're still my world
No one could ever compare. No competition, you’d always be my favorite girl
I’d take the chance to love, and know you all over again, while admitting you’re my blessing, and curse
I’d still love you more than what’s good for me. And I’ll pretend it’s better, not worse
I’d learn all your favorite fruits, and bagels again, and squeeze your hand a little tighter
I’d introduce you to the war of love, and especially to its two newest fighters
I’d make you retell your secrets. Watch you redraw all the flowers, and hearts you drew
I’d gladly go through all the first awkwardness of our love again, and my bad attempts to explain how much I love you
This game of pretend scares me into thinking of what I could’ve done better
Now all I can do is remember, and try to keep my eyes from getting wetter
I’d look deeper in your eyes. I’d look longer for one last time, but don't call me crazy
Maybe I’d redo all these things, and more, if I got the privilege to get you back. If, and maybe
But in the meantime, I’ll stay daydream of the days that I got to call you my baby
Para aire
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
We're awakened to our insatiable longing for heaven
through both beauty and the painful marring of it.
For beauty hints to us of that for which we are truly made,
and its marring shouts that we are truly not meant to find it here.

We can be eternally grateful for beauty lost when we realize
that it's one of the great secret-tellers of the universe.
Still we fear it so and often fear even to hope for the beauty itself,
though they are a necessary cycle that fuels us on and drives us home.

We cannot deny or diminish our intense longing for beauty--
to see it and have it and be it, and we cannot pretend that its
dreadful loss does not press down upon us like a crushing weight.
We must let it crush us until our ache for heaven is excruciating.
Evelyn Genao Mar 2018
A mask is what we wear.
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes.
On the mask is a smile.
Forced. Real. Unsure. Scared. Alone. Broken.
It’s always different. For every person.

With our heart’s torn and bleeding, we smile.
Hiding the tears.
We numb and we hide and we pretend.
Pretending that everything will be okay.
That we’ll be okay.
But we are getting sick and tired of always being someone we are not.
Aren’t we? Or is even that us pretending?

We just want to hide our fear.
Fear of never being good enough.
Fear that no one will ever love us.
Fear that we won’t love ourselves.

It’s amazing, isn’t it?
What we can fake with a smile.
That’s all it takes. A beautiful [fake] smile.
It hides our injured soul so deep.
That no one ever knows how broken we really are.

Are you okay?”
They would ask, sounding like they actually care.

I’m fine. Just tired.”
Is what we say with that fake twinkle we have gotten so used to wearing.

We say it over and over, repeatedly tucking away our heart.
We don’t want to have it broken. Not again.
We act as if nothing is wrong.
That we are not breaking.
That we are fine.

They are such fools.
Believing us so easily.
Can’t they see our pain? Our tears.
Are they even looking?
Why can’t they tell that we’re wearing a mask?
Is the smile that we wear too good?

We are good at it. Hiding.
It’s what we do. Hidden behind our mask.
It comes so naturally for us.
But sooner or later it becomes an addiction.
Our need to lie becomes too great.

No one ever thinks we’ll fall apart. That we’ll break.
But we do. So much.
Sometimes that’s good, but not always.
There are times where we wish we could just break down.
On someone’s awaiting shoulder.
As they comfort our pain.
But for now, our masks will remain on.
I hope you love and be sure to comment what you think.Also look at my other poems if you loved this one.
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