Fiction (2)

Yes but I’d drop anyone for you.
Other men are very nice but they aren’t you.
And I can’t write.
Can’t write this.
Can’t say it.
But we’ll end up married, my dear.
End up married, miserable
with all those ugly children.
We’ll have those mundane jobs,
and you’ll have your car
that you’ll spend too much time polishing.
And I’ll still have this pen,
and write fiction of us.
Another woman’s reality.

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