everyone who's ever been that girl,
has had an arch enemy.
mine was a red-haired porcelain type
who took the man i loved.
or more accurately, was taken.

for as long as i had loved him,
i wanted to hate her.
i did hate her.
she was not like me, and that was worse.
she was quieter, with a louder laugh
and a higher voice. thick eye-browed.
red-lipped, natural.

i gave her to him.
it was my fault.
she wanted a bag of weed.
i introduced them.

for five years, it's unwoven me,
has made me weaker. susceptible to jealousy,
bitterness, panic-stricken envy.

it destroys you once it gets inside.
you become an animal, defending territory.
i let it eat me.

today,
i told her i was sorry.
that i wasn't who she thought i was.
that maybe i was, a little.
and that i didn't hate her.

i wanted to tell her more.
that i was sorry for wanting her dead.
for calling her cankles behind her back.
for leaving everywhere she showed up.
that i was always jealous of her nose,
but not her teeth.

i told her i was threatened.
i was.
but more ashamed that she had that power over me.

i wanted to ask her things, too.
like what it was to have him love you, that way, for so long.
if he held her neck when they were fucking, too.
bruised her inner thighs with his bony pelvis.

i didn't.

but the gesture has been extended;
the weight lifted.

01/09/2008

Posted on 01/10/2008
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer