You fell in love while he was trying to get over her. You hoped and prayed he eventually would. You were somehow able to convince yourself. That you were not just an option. A last resort. You were happy. Maybe. Not. Your lips smiled; your eyes wept. Your eyes, they always gave you away.
Your hands were confused. Do they tighten their grip? Or turn you loose? They were up and they were down. It only meant one thing: you surrendered.
Your mouth, suffocated. Your neck, smothered. Trying to keep those whimpers from breaking the silence of the night. But the sound of your heart breaking: deafening.
The clouds were heavy with tears. It was raining everyday. On your freckled cheeks.
Suffering seemed like a friend you had coffee with each morning. While wondering how you were still breathing. After all those nightly deaths.
You loved him with everything that was left of you. But in his eyes you saw her face. And in that moment you knew, you would never win. She wasn’t the b*tch that all the boys get over. Had she been that, it could be easier. Her lips didn’t kiss another while they belonged to him. Had they wandered an inch, it would be easier. They lived separate lives not wanting to. Not falling out of love. Had they exchanged even a hurtful word, it might be easier. But can’t you see? Nothing has ever been easy since you tried to replace her.
She is the death of you. And you’ll keep dying. For she’ll live in his heart. Forever.