It doesn’t destroy me all at once. It is the type of poison that kisses your lips and slowly caresses your body before stealing your soul.
I don’t think of her gorgeous hazel locks or her ruby red lips. Though my hips may double hers and her breasts double mine, these are not the first images to burst into my mind.
I think of skin against skin. Your hands on her body, your lips locked, tongues playfully looping around …and around… and around.
I don’t think of her butterscotch eyes or glistening pearly whites.
I think of the love that you made in the very sheets I rest my head. I think of the years you loved her more than the brilliant sun rays that warm your back as you tan on the beach beside me.
I don’t think of her morals, her character, or her intelligence.
I think of how she had you before you even knew my name. I think of how she held your heart, your soul. I think of how you fell back into her, like an old worn sweater; how comfortability and familiarity whispered in your ear that she was the right decision, if only for the moment.
So, I am sorry. I am sorry that when you tell me I’m beautiful I can’t see why, because I look nothing like her. I am sorry that when you tell me you love me I can’t believe it. How could you love me when your heart belongs to her?
Please if for the millionth time, let it be the last I hear you say her goddamn name.
Because when I hear her name… I think of how I am not good enough for you, no matter how hard I try.
I will never be what you want.
I will never…be her.