Pretend

I’ll be happy;
yes I’ll be happy.
I’ll forget about you
and everything I feel,
from the butterflies in my chest
to the tingles that would
run through my veins.
I’ll be happy;
yes I’ll be happy.
I’ll fall out of love
and learn to accept the
loneliness of no longer being
in the warmth of your arms.
My longing lips
will just have to be bitten,
tamed,
so that your lips will only
feel like a distant memory.
I’ll be happy;
yes I’ll be happy;
and if I can’t be happy
I’ll just pretend I’m happy.