There are so many things I didn’t realize would happen when I first discovered how much I loved the sound of your voice. All of the obvious things like loving you and losing, the way you’d hold me and the fact that you didn’t even have to leave to be gone.
There are new stories here, though, in the things I didn’t know. There is the network of spiders across my heart, the one that simply being us built, the network that hid tiny eggs in tiny places so I never know where to look for pain.
Do you even know where I’ve been with your name? My love was a prayer and unanswered, it died.
I don’t know what’s worse, you not loving me or my believing that you would. I’m not sorry we were anything, I’m only sorry we weren’t everything.
I don’t want to want you to be happy, but because some part of me does, I hope she speaks louder than I did.
Fuck you and your triggering, abandoning ass. Fuck the fact that I’m sitting here alone in a place where nobody knows me. Fuck, “let’s have sex” the night before you leave and fuck a phone call from Vegas a week later saying you aren’t coming home yet because you’re having unresolved issues with some girl. Some girl who has never treated you well and whom you complain about constantly. Some girl you said you didn’t find remotely attractive and that was BEFORE you and I were romantically involved. And me? I AM attractive. There, I said it. I’m prettier. I’m a pretty pretty fucking princess and I’ve been sitting in your house and lying in your bed after moving up here and canoodling with you in front of your children only to learn now you want an open relationship. Well thanks a lot. After I fish my pride out of the toilet I think I’ll try to figure out ways to not passive-aggressively get back at you when you get back as we still have to live together and thanks to my parents disowning me I have no place to go.
Tears in a bucket, motherfuck it.