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Strangers
When he acts like he's heartless,
I act like I believe that he is.
We both pretend like I haven't spent countless nights awake until 3am creeping around his mind.
Tiptoeing over his every fear,
dragging my fingertips along his deepest regrets.
We pretend that I haven't snuck around those dusty corners
where few have dared to venture.
Like I have never listened as
his heart bled,
or his anger blew.
As if sex is the only way two people can be intimate
we pretend that I haven't been underneath his skin.
We pretend like we're strangers.
He pretends to avoid my eyes.
I pretend not to see when he steals a peak.
And we both pretend that it doesn't kill us, a little bit.
-Mae
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