one - if you don't concentrate too hard, you probably won't even know the difference.

he tastes sweet like milk chocolate
creamy and smooth and soft
but you always preferred dark.
or maybe even coffee,
because that's how she tasted

and it's too easy
to pull away from his sugary kisses
and distract yourself by
fumbling with his shirt.
why is it green?
she hates green.

his hands grapple at the bedsheets
and you don't want to stare
but you have to;
his nails are perfect,
not bitten and uneven
like hers were.

he's twice as pretty but half as smart
and that's not enough
because you're not feeling
even though you want to -
you want to you want to you want to

"i'm sorry."
his breath hitches
"i'm not her."

you force yourself to look
right at him
and you tell him
"don't be sorry."
and you smile to make everything okay.

but his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.