A story exists. You know, the one where you fall in
love (once
upon that time),
the one where she comes
through
the door
and occupies your bed.
Not a prince to test you with some silly shoe
but a femme in fancy dress
whose lust is all
for you.
So the story is a lie, the one you love
intangible. You still hold
yourself at night, hug your knees to your chest,
and sing that
story
of the unreal.
Some lies must be felt apart from dreams.
It is how you know (happily
and ever
after) you still live.
Karen Lee Kleis 
powerful and deep
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
my pleasure
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on wwwpalfitness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much for the reblog! 🙂
LikeLike
You’re welcome
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much!
LikeLike
“but a femme in fancy dress
whose lust is all
for you”
Yes!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is, by the way, a bit of a musing on how what we feel so often betrays what we’ve been told we should feel.
LikeLike