What if I lied about being in love with you?

We should talk.
I'm crying.

I love him.
Not in love, but love just the same.
And he watched me cry,
my hands clenched around my shoulders,
dying to rip and twist my newly dyed hair
out in chunks.

To leave it littered across the orange dirt
of my driveway.

I'm shivering cold with fear
and anger, you can't see it
in the dark, but my skin has gone blotchy
and my face is pale.

Now two days later
I'm still suffering.
Confused.

Flirting with the men I work
with.
Making sexual innuendo
and some not so subtle inquiries.

And I gave in.
It's done and I'm considering
this end.

Our end.
I love you,
but I don't know if we can make it.

You say you never measure up with me.
You never measure up with me.
That's not true

Maybe we're just not meant for forever.


Never leave the one you're in with love for the one you like.