She sticks around. Waiting. Hoping. Guessing. She’s not the kind who takes chances, but she did. Took a risk, an un calculated one at that. Walked right into the mud, hoping to make a beautiful statue out of it, to be the girl that untangles that mess that’s become YOU.

You spoke, she read between the lines. You gave her the life she wanted and promised her dick eternal, she humbled herself, down played her role, ate from the wrong bowl, hang in places she’d rather not, developed traits of an early 40 year old… slipping into the landslide that is YOU

She’s lost. She cares about things that aren’t important, prioritizes bad movies and sad songs because that’s as close as she’ll get to romance. Wishes she’d made a different choice, chose a best friend over financial stability. Love over convenience, emotion over the rush, a train wreck that is YOU.

You lied. She believed you, or she wanted to, or she still does. Unsure whether to un love you, start a new life, build her broken image of men in general. Pulled by a peculiar magnetism no one understands, by a comfortableness that eases me not. Sooner or later, she gotta leave YOU.


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