This is just something i wrote. i don't even like it very much. its too jumbled and it doesnt capture what i really wanted to express. but whatever. =]

Beg to differ but it’s true.

I hear the harsh words, the sharp tones, behind my back, the angle of your throat as you whisper, quietly of course, but I can see the way your jaw moves, and I know what you’re saying and I know you honestly want to believe what you’re saying but I know you know better. Bitch. Whore. Slut. I hate her.

I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t. Not until after I pressed my mouth against his. Not until after I dug my nails into his collar bones. Not until after he pushed away from me, shocked, wide eyes, the way betrayal glassed over his gaze, and he whispered so softly, “I can’t do this. I have a girlfriend.” I didn’t know! And it wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t my fault. And it wasn’t your fault. It just happened.

He broke up with you and he came back for me. I didn’t know you. I didn’t care. I was so happy with him. I still am. But now I see you and I know. I see the quick intake of breath whenever you catch sight of his arm around my hips. I see the butterfly flutter of your lashes so fast. I see the hinged smile still so hopeful, still so broken, waiting for his. I see it all and I know it well and I do care.

I care that you still love him so much. You might always love him. You might fall in love again and marry and have children, but late at night, it might be his name that throbs through your veins in the hush before dreams unfurl. I care that he still loves you, too. Not enough to go back to you. But enough to have a wistful smile on his face and the pictures of you in his drawer. He doesn’t talk about you much, but when he does, it’s heavy, how he hopes you’re doing okay, how you used to make him laugh, how he knows you would be there for him in a heartbeat if he ever called you.

I care that he wonders about how his life would have played out had I never slipped my tongue into his that first time or again. He doesn’t say anything about his future that didn’t happen, but I can tell how he thinks about it, once in a while. You were connected to him in a way that I will never be, and vice versa for me.

I know you think I’m standing in your way of true happiness with him. But I love him with my entire heart. That might not be enough for you. But it’s enough for him. He loves me, too, so much. The way he smiles. The gravity of his gaze. The secrets he harbors into the shell of my ear. I’m sure you know a few of them. You can’t possibly know all of them, though. The weight of his hand on the small of my back. The peanut butter sandwich ready on the counter. The flowers neatened on the walkway. How he came back.

If he left me for you, I would understand. I would understand why. I would understand you. I would understand devastation. I would understand again.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you.

Please. Don’t cry anymore. Don’t think about this anymore. Don’t think about me.

You’ll find love again, too. You’re beautiful. You’re smart and you’re funny. You’re talented and you’re genuine. I know I don’t know you. But I know from him. And I know you’ll be okay.

Just…don’t hate me anymore because I love him, too.

…I loved him first.