Don’t you dare close your eyes and wish for me when she’s no longer next to you. When the smell of her hair on your pillows has gone stale and you can no longer remember the scent of my shampoo, how my skin tasted when you kissed the soft spot of my temple and breathed me in.
Don’t you dare let your mind drift and dream of me, of the way I would stay up too late just to listen to your voice, my eyelids fluttering, getting heavier with each exhale.
Don’t you dare remember how I looked into your green eyes when you spoke to me, tracing back years of each other’s lives that we missed.
Don’t you dare look up at that ceiling with longing, remembering how I would create constellations with the dots, the cracks, telling stories almost as beautiful as our own.
Don’t you dare pretend I’m coming back, to that space we shared for a moment in time, now that it’s no longer swelling with the energy of the two of you.
I will not be your placeholder girl, your nostalgia, your moments of temporary bliss. I will not be the number you call when you’re lonely, the one who only graces your mind when you’re not busy with the thought of someone else.
I will not be your second best, won’t come crawling back to the arms that so easily let go. I will not think, for a second, my worth is resting in the palms of your hands, in the gentle graze of your fingertips on my skin.
Don’t you dare think that you have this all figured out. That you can walk into someone else’s outstretched limbs and call them home for a while, only to come back to me when you’re less afraid.
Don’t you dare think you can close our door, but keep it opened just a crack, in case you want to return when your legs aren’t as unsteady.
Don’t you dare remind yourself of all that we used to be when your heart is finally broken by someone who never had intentions to keep you.
Don’t you tell me I was right; I don’t want to be right, I want to be free. Free from the words that try to hold me back, from the hands that pull me down. From the boy I thought was a man but never loved with the same tenacity. And perhaps never will.
Don’t you dare miss me when she’s gone. When there is no longer a body to pull close to you. When there is only one pair of shoes at the front door. When both her, and my memories ache somewhere deep in your chest, a dizzy mess of regret you can’t quite sort out.
Your feelings are not genuine. You’re simply alone. And I am worth more than to be the one who catches you when you fall, the body you desire when you’re lonely, the love you want to replace, to fill what’s missing.
I am already overflowing for myself, and just as easily, someone else.