To the Boy Who My Best Friend Lost Her Virginity to:
Not only did you miss out because she is one hell of a fuck when you actually love her, but she’s also one hell of a girl.
I think those words slipped out of your cocked mouth at one point, safety off, bullets pouring off the indentions in your teeth, “I wish I loved you,” “Why?” she asked, “Because you’re one hell of a girl.” you replied as if the chamber was empty.
Why do you continue to play Russian Roulette with a gun that has a full round in it?
Don’t you know death is never pretty, no matter how many times you try to make the empty life inside her eyes a poem that makes her sound weak over you?
Don’t you know the black and purple rings under her eyes for those months never turned any shade of beautiful?
I understand the hunger inside of you for your taste of immortalization by fucking the girl who is known to not be able to love herself outweighed the option of starving yourself in the name of some form of love you didn’t recognize, some form of love you never quite acquainted yourself with because you spent time thinking of bending her over the teacher’s desk rather than listening to her teach you.
The way you use a thesaurus every time you need to speak badly of her, as if you know right now that her words always meant more than yours, no matter how many letters were to them. As if you know hers weighed more so maybe if you add more “smart” words, you can finally balance the scale. But, oh you poor boy, don’t you also know that a one-sided scale can never be balanced?
You tried to talk to her just a few weeks prior to this and I hoped to God she saw right through your facade of fake apologies and nails that still had the skin from your most recent victim underneath them.
Her heart beat ravenously, the sound of blood pumping filled her ears like when you are little and your mother tells you to put the seashell up to your ear, you can hear the ocean when it is really the echoed pulsing of blood cushioning inside your skull. As much as she tried to think it was just the waves breaking in her head, all she could think of is her heart breaking.
But granted, she saw right through you.
You noticed how her eyes had a little more life to them than the time you left her to sew up her own wounds on the curb outside my house. You noticed the black and purple underneath her eyes had turned to a shade just darker than her skin, the color of her skin you always wished your fingertips would attain so you’d see it regardless of who you were touching.
You noticed that you may have taken her virginity,
but you’re the one who got fucked.
