Confined In The Reality Of Fables

Poetry

I have bite marks on my tongue from the words I never let pour out of my mouth,
Scratch marks on my arms from the hugs I could never give you:
The physical pain is not what eats the corner of my brain,
But rather the silence:
The nothing
The idea that it was all just an illusion in my head.

Because for once in my life I wanted to believe in a fairy tale.
I felt something and mistook him for being Prince Charming.
Just.
Like.
That.
It was midnight and when my glass slipper fell off my foot, he didn’t see it because he was too caught up loving Cinderella.
For I was not her,
I was just merely an imposter on Halloween-
all dressed up for trick-or-treat.

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