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pretending — poem

July 8, 2012

I was thinking of Le Miserables, Empty Chairs and Empty Tables when this came to mind. I think it could be sung to that melody. I know I sang the first stanza into life riding my bicycle…

She pretended that she loved me
We both pretended that we cared
Ignored the subtle truth by daylight
There was little that we shared

I wrote of fire and passion
She responded with her dares
She modeled flesh and blood and fashion
Yet we found scant comfort there

If only words had form and substance
Still only letters upon the air
Just fantasy to be discarded
When she found another there

And so I’m left in shock and silence
confused uncertain what to do
the memory plays a broken record
An act of shame I’ll always rue.

So pretending played with fire
The flames that burn and leave their mark
a hidden pain I bear in silence
for no more I feel her spark.

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From → poetry

7 Comments
  1. Me likes this very much :). Very well written, flows quite well, and very relatable

  2. TheOthers1 permalink

    I really like that first stanza though it’s sad. Like watching love fall a part.

    • thanks…. that is always the risk in love…

      maybe risk greately, love greately ?

      thanks for stopping by

  3. This reminds me greatly of days spent writing for my muse back in high school… And I love Les Miserables, and I always tear up at “Empty Chairs and Empty Tables.”

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