Let me introduce myself.
Despite our pleasant conversations where you told me I seemed “sweet”
it seems you’ve casually forgotten my existence.
I blame myself for that.
I was the one who laid down on the ground
waiting for you both to walk all over me.
Crush my ribs,
because I thought that’s what being in love meant.
I wonder if you thought of me,
as you crawled inside each other.
Frantic fucking because I know you’ve wanted him for longer than you’re willing to admit.
And I know,
I know more than anyone that he is easy to want more than you want to breathe.
Easy to lay down and die for because his presence feels like resuscitation and breathing his air feels like
But did you think of me?
Could you taste me on his tongue?
Could you feel the grooves in the nape of his neck that my teeth left?
Could you smell fading notes of my perfume still clinging to his pores?
Could you hear the whispered proclamations I left in his ears just three days before
“I love you”
“I’ll miss you”
“I’ll see you soon”
The scent of vanilla hanging in the air wasn’t just fucking ambiance,
it was a piece of me I left behind.
Like deep brown hair on his pillow case,
looping around like a noose,
like the one you quietly wrapped around my neck
hidden under a façade of kindness.
They keep telling me I’m not supposed to be mad at you.
That he could’ve convinced you we weren't together.
But you and I both know,
you heard the air leave my lungs
as you crushed them under your heel.