Cramp between cushions
still as a stone
whispering breaths
in a crowded room
heavy with coughs
a humid sour stench.
Dark but for the light
cast on the girl
playing the man
dressed as a queen
lamenting death.
Authentic tears
sweeten the verse
earn our belief
our love her dream.
This fantasy’s
a suitable

I remain still
afraid to move
beyond the walls
of fantasy.
The real world
has villains too
not driven by ghosts
but humanity.
Witches and ghouls
imply a god
to protect us
but nobody’s good
outside the stage.
A tragedy
lasts but three hours.


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