Unnamed

It was fun to pretend about it. Pretend that he loved you, that he was you. It was fun to be royal. One who was well-off. You were a carouser. An aristocrat with an exquisite crown. He found you in your sleep. He became you in your sleep. You used to sleep with your mouth open. You were his best friend. You were his best friend in the world. He was you. He spent your birthdays and waved at the crowds in the parades and he seeped through your teeth when no one was supposed to be looking. He drinks tea and still spits your blood into the cup every once in a while and when he does he thinks of you. It's a shame that they tied you down on your golden bed and read hallowed lullabies to you until your head fell off and your guts opened up and your body tore itself apart to reveal the way he was hiding inside you. Bye.