Halloween.
Perfect for pretending like I’m not
heartbroken and
dramatic and
sad.

I’ll even wear a garbage bag.
If anyone asks,
I’m trash—ed.

It’s funnier when I’m drunk.

At your party,
filled with strangers, your friends,
we pretend we’re already friends.
That’s why I’m here, right?
Because we’re friends?

Drink secured in my hand,
I pretend your misplaced hand
doesn’t guide your intentions.
I drink in the festivities.
I join in the revelry.
I lie to myself a little more.

Morning comes.

Your friends discard their costumes,
then me along with your candy wrappers.
My plastic wrap still intact.

Done with masks and charades,
you admit you wanted something more,
while being less than friends.

Your honesty should have stung,
but your dismissal is close to my truth.
I would have given something more,
just to feel less sad.

All you had to do was ask.