The Pretend to be Dead Game

Whenever I start to come apart, I tell myself I have no heart – I say I’ve already died, and this is a nice trick of my mind to make events up as it tries to prevent me from realizing that I am dead and that the last real thing you said to me was “Baby, don’t drive now let’s both us go to bed.” I have the most active head; I swear I outthink everything, like how your scent is on the breeze of every lonely, gusty evening – how there seems to be more meaning in the little things you do to move closer to me. It’s sobering to know you’ve died, I think – to know that it was not a dream but exactly how it seemed.


~ by perfectionatrix on March 15, 2012.

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