The Girl Who Loved Another
You were the girl who was in love with another.
I was the boy who thought loving you enough could fix it.
I was the boy who was falling in love with you.
You were the girl who was falling out of love with someone else.
You were the girl who couldn’t stop from hurting me for more than a week.
I was the boy who would end up apologizing anyways.
You were the girl who wanted to break up when you realized how much you were hurting me.
The girl who wanted to because it was making you start to not like yourself.
Not that you wanted to try harder. Not that you were sad for me.
But that it hurt you, oh so badly, that you hurt me.
I was the boy that said that’s totally reasonable and I understand; our pains are the same.
You were the girl who made sure never to put me on your social media.
The girl who had pictures of her friends, and herself.
The girl who didn’t want to post me because it meant you were just trying to one-up him.
I was the boy who believed that for the year we were together.
The boy that showed up, finally, in your story.
Small, hidden behind a statue, barely recognizable.
You were the girl who was passionate and thoughtful and self-aware.
When it came to talking about him.
I was the boy who loved talking about him, cause I thought it meant you loved me more.
You were the girl who would’ve taken my money to keep you from leaving when I needed you.
An emotional prostitute.
I paid and paid. Hundreds. Thousands. Until I didn’t.
You were the girl who never came over.
I was the boy who always went over.
You were the girl whose name my friends somehow didn’t know.
I was the boy who thought that was because they didn’t care.
You were the girl who made plans.
And forgot them.
And when you didn’t forget, you came hours late.
I was the boy who was just happy you came at all.
You were the girl who planned something for yourself on my birthday.
Who came hours after everyone.
Who made up for it by giving me water for the few minutes I saw you before I blacked out.
You were the girl who let me throw a party at my house for all of your friends.
Who didn’t come for hours.
Who left when they did after we’d planned to sleep over.
Who said I just have some errands tomorrow early, like laundry.
I was the boy who thought busy was a trump card to love.