When she asks about me, tell her.
If you tell her that I was just some girl
you dated for nearly 3 years, you can
bet that she will only give you a hard
time.
The pictures and posts tagged between
our two profiles will tell her it was more
than just that. If she’s smart, she’ll look
at the notification that’ll pop up midnight
every night, telling you what you were
doing that day, one…two…three years
ago, you’re in my ones too.
If you tell her that I was just an old
friend, she’ll know you’re lying. See, if
she’s smart like me, she’ll soon realise
that you’re easy to read when you’re
lying and that your voice goes off in a
mind of its own.
She’ll remember how one night you were
at the bowling alley, she said “lets try
that chinese buffet place, I heard it’s
great.” But with a heavy heart, you’ll
make up some story about how you seen
a rat there, once, because you wouldn’t
dream of going to our place with
someone else. But sweetie, it pains me
to say that I know that one day, we
both will. One day, I’ll want the soup
there that I always had four bowls of
before an actual main course, and you’ll
want to have the ribs you loved there.
She’ll remember that day when she
picked you up from university to bring
you back home, how you skipped a song
that was on the radio. Of course, it’ll be
the song we always danced to. And I
know you’ll make an excuse why you can’t listen to it whenever it comes on
when you’re together.
If she holds up her phone with a picture
of you and I from way back, lie a little
but not a lot, she’s not looking for truthful
answers. She’s looking for reassurance
from you.
Don’t tell her how we decided we were
going to have three children, and talked
about how we’d explain our story to
them. Or the plans we had because you’re
going to have bigger and better plans
with her.
Keep the top drawer of your black case
shut until you’ve gotten rid of the cards, my 52 reasons why, post it notes from
me and the pictures. She doesn’t need
to know why you visit your old tagged
page and why you reread our old
conversations on nights she isn’t
around.
Change the subject when
you’re all gathered around the family
dinner table and your Mum asks you
if you’ve ever heard what I’ve been up
to lately, don’t let her hear your Mum
call me the daughter she never had.
It’ll kill her with the thought of never
standing a chance against me.
Kiss her forehead and tell her you
love her on nights that she’s had too
much to drink and she’s rambling on
about the girl you loved before her.
I hope that she forgets that you still
say my name in your sleep, and that
she ignores how you twitch when
someone mentions my favourite author, or mentions that movie and book I
always used to cry at.
And when she does find out who I am,
I hope she’ll take it in the best way and
silently thank me, because without me,
you wouldn’t know how to love her,
kiss her, take her bra off and make
love to her.
dededos
2087
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
