Member-only story
Playing Pretend
A Poem
i give into my fascinations,
one by one and page by page,
as if i’m dreaming other lives
while i stand still
some people say writers explore
what they want to live,
and maybe that’s true
with their ink-stained fingers
but me —
i’m just standing on a precipice
and waiting for someone to hear
as if that will make all the difference
i use the words
to wrap my head around
things like pain and death and fury —
but outside i’m so quiet you wouldn’t notice me
some people may say i’m just
playing pretend
with all my ideals and desires —
but i don’t think it’s that simple
i close my eyes and imagine
other lives as if they were my own —
but i don’t think i want to be them
as much as i want to wield my own power
i don’t want to be
the hero slaying the dragon
or the princess kissing the prince
or the boy…
