Maybe I could be like her. Maybe I could be for you.

I’m an idiot. I’m not that bold.

She’s your wife. Your real one…I just play a part onstage.

It’s almost over and the pain is rushing at me. I’m stressed and tired but you walk in before the show and everything’s better. I feel lifted.

This is bad. Awful, really. But it’s okay.

You don’t know. You never will. I’m that good at pretending.


About wewerethesame

Pagan. Writer. Owner of cats. View all posts by wewerethesame

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