I write your name on a piece of paper
and pull my car off the PCH
to throw it in the ocean.
Let the water deal with you now.
I don’t want this salt anymore.
I text a boy who loved me more
than I ever could have loved him
and try to understand what he saw
that you just didn’t.
I look at the photo of myself
the night after I fell into your bed
and hate how big my smile is,
hate how happy I think you’re going to make me.
You were the first one after all this time
that felt like coming home.
Like a blanket and a pillow,
some place I could finally rest
and not be scared.
Placeholder girls like me
don’t know they are placeholders
until it’s too late.
Until we think we’ve got a shot
at the real thing.