Dress-Up
I feel like a child playing dress-up.
Clothed in lies and fantasies that we wish would come true.
Dreams are hanging in my closet, waiting for one to be chosen so I may twirl around my room, pretending like somebody cares for me.
Someday I will hold up my dreams like forbidden trophies and ask which I should pursue.
Acting, writing, cooking?
Which person should I become?
Lawyer, baker, therapist?
We'll stand there awhile, footed in awkward truths and an inability to shatter each other's dreams; before you tell me the horrid reality.
Nothing will come true.
Dreams are just dreams, illusions that fade as soon as you reach out to grab them.
But I'll ignore you and dawn a dress once again, spinning around my house, bathed in a dream.
Always playing dress-up.
T