Our
love
story
only worked
in imaginings
I stood on the ice pretending
I could not hear the cracking noise
Shouting all my truths
And melting
after
you
left

A
ghost
story
only works
on the radio
when truth depends on sound affects
and in vivid imaginings
dying at the scene
a peaceful
floating
like
ice

An
old
story
can be changed
in the retelling
not too scared to kiss you good-bye
I recast myself as a prince
skating on thin ice
a mind shift
and you
would
stay