,,

She means nothing to him anymore
he swears,
and his words feel hot as they settle
in your hair -
“you aren’t her,”
he says
but
when the night settles around you
maybe you can taste her tears on his pillow, maybe
you can smell her shampoo or the sweet soap
she agonized over picking out just so he’d tell her she
reminded him
of lilacs
maybe at first you feel good, good, good,
you feel chosen, you feel
like you won
but
her ghost has become as familiar to you
as your shadow, you taste her toothpaste and
you hear her laughter,
he says “she used to paint her nails like you”
and you say
“yeah?” and
go home
and don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry
because you feel good, good, good
god did he just choose you because you wear her dresses and like the same things as she did except you’re more into his tv shows and less into weddings are you just a replacement are you just scar tissue to fill up the wounds she left are you just the girl between the girl he wanted to marry and the girl he actually will
and he says
“she means nothing to me anymore”
and you say
“yeah?”
and some sad sick part of you
knows you should save yourself the trouble
of a heartbreak so loud your neighbors would call the cops, thinking they heard gunshots -
you’re smart and you’ve seen how these things go and
one day he’s going to say
“she meant nothing to me, anyway”
and he’ll be talking about
you
because you already mean less to him
than you really should
but god help you every time he kisses you
you feel
good, good, good.

"I love him but he still loves her." /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

o

(via adolescentwaves)

(via heartlesspharaoh)