I whisper words onto paper
Under a conjured name.

It’s delicious, the magic of it;
Me, but not myself
Mine, but not my own.

I drink in the murmured approvals
Uttered in keystrokes
Sent, ephemeral and
Equally anon.

It’s addictive, the potion;
Fiction, yet reality
Fantasy, yet the truest of my truth.

I’ve whispered words onto paper
Under a conjured name
And now I wonder
If I’ll
remember
my
own.