By The Pricking Of My Thumbs
by Silvia
The trick is:
He put something shiny and reflecting and you glow somewhere deep, and they say,
"My, what's different?"
and you tell them want they want to hear and you can be you.
You can be you, and it's like always except they're listening. You're allowed to be sorry and laugh (and it's not mean, because. because it isn't.) and.
And you kiss her.
She tastes different when her mouth opens wider and looser, all soft and sticky and easy. She tastes sweet like her mother's marshmallows and you might tell her that, and she would frown and say something like-- like you both know, though, how dangerous that was for Joyce.
You nod and you say that now though, now you miss her, and such a best parts of humans woman.
And you can cry and she can cry around you and everyone is allowed to be sad and go home and have real sheets on their beds.
It's wonderful.
The trick is:
People do change, but. You're not a person.
She makes you feel like one, and it's the most beautiful lie you've never been told, but you're not, and instead you get to figure things out.
You figure out how you've always been, and you decide you can do anything you want, and you can play any part you want, and you can have any life you want if you fake hard enough at it.
You can drive yourself mad.
The trick is:
You can say, "Make it look good, like an echo."
And they can say, "Your soul..."
And you can say, "Yes."