PROSE: Fighting butterflies

You’re perched on the edge of my bed, staring me down with those glacial eyes of yours. You’re speaking but all I hear is “him, him, him”. I want to get drunk so I have an excuse to tell you how I feel. Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I can’t have?

Never fall for someone you see every day.  You’ll fall in love with their endearing little habits; the nervous bottom lip biting, the way they look when they’re concentrating, their company – them. I’m homesick for the embraces we’ve never had. I rolled over last night half-expecting myself to crash into you but of course the bed was empty and you were miles away, your head resting on his chest.

“We won’t work, we won’t work, we won’t work” I repeat to myself as I continue to list the reasons of why we’d be perfect together. You said, “You’ll find a wonderful person someday”. In between the lines read “that person is not me”.  The problem is, I don’t want to find anyone but you. I have yet to figure out why the night amplifies the fire inside me that burns so fiercely with thoughts of your smile. I’m always tired but never of you.

My heart yelps for you on days like this, because I know you are with him and with every kiss you give him he’s stealing away a bit of you. You can’t see it from my perspective, all the fighting and paper cut wounds – you say he makes you happy, that you don’t fight that much, that he’s actually really kind and sweet and oh god you love him.  At this point I see two options: I can tell you I’m in love with you, you will reject me, and we’ll never speak again or I can sit here with my eyes fixated on every last inch of you and shut my mouth.


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