i think i have fallen
for the sparkles on your eyelids
and the way you
tell me things in sign language
even when no one else is around
to hear you whisper
fuck me.

i don't know why i'm doing this anymore.
darling, we're both far too tired
to keep playing pretend
and acting like
this is something real.

and now, what are we left with?
pictures, and e-mails,
and sticky notes,
begging for kisses;
but after all we've been through,
does it really mean that much?

i like to tell myself,
that when i fell for the sparkles
and sign language,
you fell for my neon eye shadow
and soft moans.
and that someday,
you'll find the piece of you
that loves what's left of me

but you always find a way
to bring me to reality,
and remind me that,
no mater how much i pretend,
you're not even real