Claws come out to play at night.
I’m falling behind on deadlines,
just like I fell behind with us.
I’m THAT girl.
The loyal one.
The nice one.
The she’s-kind-of-a-bitch-banter one.
I was good to you.
You hurt me.
Isn’t that every relationship ever?
People who do the breaking-up never write these things.
Let me tell you a story.
Two of them we were us.
One of them we were maybe-yes-no-Idon’tknow.
The rest…I’m not sure…
This isn’t for details,
or cheated time,
this isn’t to say I want you back
because trust me,
this heart can’t be trusted in your hands again.
It’s for now,
The me I’m not sure I recognise.
The girl almost two years on in our dust.
The girl who didn’t write poetry until six months ago.
The girl who doesn’t need you.
She’s a stranger even to me.
I’m hoping someday I’ll grow to know her.
That I’ll like this mirror image again.
The reflection lies.
I write romance –
I did that before we met –
you gave me heartbreak,
but guess what,
I can make that a superpower too.
Enjoy being the second protagonist of my story.
Someday you won’t be.