House
Our relationship was the children's game of house.
Our relationship was the children’s
game of house, and before you
told me you wanted to stop playing,
you had already changed the game.
You became a fire breathing dragon,
while I kept pretend cooking
in my pretend kitchen your favorite
pretend foods and pretend sleeping
next to you in our pretend bed.
I’m quite good at playing house.
I took on my role to perfection.
I’m not ashamed to say I played
pretend girlfriend exceptionally well.
You could have at least pretended
to appreciate that.
I should’ve stopped playing when
you blew fire at me with your dragon
mouth. Like the time you threw the
bottle of Fireball on the sidewalk. Why
didn’t I just let you walk away? You
cannot pretend composure still, you
walking away was not closure.
I am left pretending not to care.
But while you’re off imagining
yourself—sharpened teeth
and scales, my house begins
to transform. Indestructible
gray stone walls become a barrier
between worlds. You can’t hurt me
anymore. Safe from flame, safe
from pain, I pretend.
You can’t hurt me anymore.
About the Creator
Madeline Peterson
21-year-old creative writing major at MSU.
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