Krystal. 19. 631.

Taken. Free Spirit. Mermaid.


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  • You will be out with friends
    when the news of her existence
    will be accidentally spilled all over
    your bar stool. Respond calmly
    as if it was only a change in weather,
    a punch line you saw coming.
    After your fourth shot of cheap liquor,
    leave the image of him kissing another woman
    in the toilet.

    In the morning, her name will be
    in every headline: car crash, robbery, flood.
    When he calls you, ignore the hundreds of ropes
    untangling themselves in your stomach.
    You are the best friend again. He invites
    you over for dinner and you say yes
    too easily. Remind yourself this isn’t special,
    it’s only dinner, everyone has to eat.
    When he greets you at the door, do not think
    for one second you are the reason
    he wore cologne tonight.

    In his kitchen, he will hand-feed you
    a piece of red pepper. His laugh
    will be low and warm and it will make you
    feel like candlelight. Do not think this is special.
    Do not count on your fingers the number
    of freckles you could kiss too easily.
    Try to think of pilot lights and olive oil,
    not everything you have ever loved about him,
    or it will suddenly feel boiling and possible
    and so close. You will find her bobby pins
    laying innocently on his bathroom sink.
    Her bobby pins. They look like the wiry legs
    of spiders, splinters of her undressing
    in his bed. Do not say anything.
    Think of stealing them, wearing them
    home in your hair. When he hugs you goodbye,
    let him kiss you on the forehead.
    Settle for target practice.

    At home, you will picture her across town
    pressing her fingers into his back
    like wet cement. You will wonder
    if she looks like you, if you are two bedrooms
    in the same house. Did he fall for her features
    like rearranged furniture? When he kisses her,
    does she taste like wet paint?

    You will want to call him.
    You will go as far as holding the phone
    in your hand, imagine telling him
    unimaginable things like "You are always
    ticking inside of me and I dream of you
    more often than I don’t.
    My body is a dead language
    and you pronounce
    each word perfectly.”

    Do not call him.
    Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR.
    She must make him happy.
    She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis.

    You are a souvenir shop, where he goes
    to remember how much people miss him
    when he is gone.

    - Sierra DeMulder, “Unrequited Love Poem” (via fleurishes)

    (via bbittersweet-destruction)

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