After Hearing You Met A Girl Three Weeks After Telling Me You ‘Weren’t The Relationship Type’

Micah. H
Micah. H

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. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Ari Eastman

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

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