Real

I can’t think of one reason to be real. I like staying imaginary. I hide under your bed, inside your closet and by the night light. I can’t think of one reason why I wouldn’t want to make you sweat at night. It’s not just nerves. I’m there, not being real. I am a force so big, yet, I don’t exist. You can walk through me. You can yell at me. I take it all in and spit it right back out. I move your sheets. I howl your name. I whisper the name of your dead lovers. But it’s all in your head, right?

I’m not real.

Right?

Just keep telling yourself that.