Poetry:

Pretend

She leaves, tip toeing the distance
He turns, whispering "I love you"
To her silhouette of stale air

He walks, his head on the ground
He'll retreat, inside carefully planed dreams
Just blurry enough to be what seems

He breathes, a fluid that fills his empty lungs
He'll forget, droplets fall towards hard ground
Into a puddle with no single name

And I hope, to silence she still listens
To a love, wrapped ever so tightly in bed sheets
     and the true man she'll never, ever, meet

            Thomas A. McDonley © 2005