I Pretended to Know-REVISED 2026

 As sure as the harvest moon, and sure as hell, I wasn't immune to the shrapnel of your violent heart. I let mine harden until it was brittle as November wood— so you could hear the crunch of it under your boots as you walked over me.

I played the part. I told myself God would save you, once He’d finished tallying the heinous marks you left on me. I knelt. I prayed.

I had to excise you like a fever— not for my soul, but for the bruises on my neck, and the "falls" that left me bleeding on the floor. I hated how I still struggled to love you. I hated my own stupidity.

But when your heart finally quit, I knew my evil god had fallen. I didn’t have to pretend anymore. I didn't have to hide the joy. Instead, I simply told the neighbors that God had finally called you home.


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