my imaginary

I don’t play pretend very well
so the three-year-old wails
“You don’t believe in my imaginary!
I can tell!”
and I know she’s right.
what if no one ever believes in my imaginary?
so I ponder my Cave of Pretend in my heart
full of broken china teacups
and lanky world travellers
bourbon and sea glass and hazy smoke
it’s mine
what if no one ever believes in my imaginary?
maybe that means I can’t find my real-life better half
so I’ll spend my time with pretend people
asking questions I know will be properly answered
but if
I find ‘the one’
“I love you”
will be trumped by
“I believe in your imaginary.”

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