I Never Want To Learn Her Real Name

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The new girl looks nothing like me.
She probably tastes like stability
and clean laundry.
I bet she’s never forgotten to take her Zoloft in the morning,
or cried at Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.
The two of you have never fought in Hawaii,
just smiled for photos that sit on mantels.
She never pulls away from your hands in the bed,
instead she embraces every touch.
Every tender moment, she is grateful.
Her heart is overflowing and warm,
doesn’t need to be microwaved like mine does.

I bet she wakes up early just like you.
And you go for runs together,
You never have to ask her to pick up the pace,
embracing the rising sun like it’s what you’re meant to do.
She probably tells you you’re the only man she’s ever loved
and you eat it up,
because this means your ego isn’t threatened,
this means you are the only one who ever mattered.

The new girl looks nothing like me.
She’s got brown eyes and I’ve got green,
stupid details I hone in on when I remember
it’s the smallest way I have left
to act like I still know you.
I guess what my bitter heart is saying
is that I bet she’s wonderful.
is that I bet she makes you happy.
is that I bet you don’t think of what we left behind.
Because I wouldn’t hope for anything else. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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