I've never had a reason to believe in love, still I buy line after line no less than a prostitute I fit every cliché of hopeless romantic. People tell me I'm lucky my parents are one of the few couples in a divorced world but my mother told me when I was just six that they wouldn't be together if they were childless. Still I watch them wear Venetian masks and dance to music fit for a Shakespearean comedy. Maybe the audience is as gullible as my mother who bought sugar pills, claiming they cured her depression and anxiety and even helped her lose weight. She asked a doctor about them once, then discredited him when he said "placebo" forcing me to google the pills instead I told her they have no side effects but the next day she said she stopped taking them claiming they give her a headache. Maybe you were my placebo-- my sugar pill. Making me thankful my one cliché would never turn into another because I never liked cats and never knew why lonely people cuddled with creatures who preferred to be somewhere else. You were my placebo, telling me you love me on the drunken night where I took off my stolen mask for the first time kissing me and promising that I wasn't a cliché You were my sugar pill but I turned you into my cat. |