Pretense

if you only cared
as i do, you could have
appreciated
my little pretenses
they are not the usual
inconveniences
they are the tickles
the taste of pickles
the scent of ripeness
the smoothness
of love
what delights us
we must say
no matter what

reality that hurts
what use?

time is too short
for truths that kill us
time lies within
our own points of view

now, ride in fantasy
come with me
for i am yours

this is pretense
this is happiness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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