Let’s pretend happiness in matching turquoise
and white mother/daughter dresses,
while he snarled, “Smile, dammit!”
behind the camera.
Let’s pretend a perfect family, while
she laid on the couch with migraines,
he growled into his martinis,
and I gasped for air under a thick brick of icy tension
that squished us into perfect paper cutout dolls.
Let’s pretend closeness in separate rooms,
and strained and shallow conversations at dinner.
Let’s pretend everything I did was wrong,
that your broken marriage was all my fault.
Let’s pretend I could fix it.
published in Sonnets to Sing
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