You needed more than just me,
I wasn't enough.
Not because I, as a person, am not enough
to love, or to spend time with,
but I, being where I am, or was,
and you being where you are, or were,
I could not, would not, and have never been able to satisfy you.
All this time, I was hating her for giving you
what I couldn't, but that was not it, was it?
I think that you needed someone else to give what I could,
but softer.

     How I love with my fists clenched,
     How I lean into a kiss with my teeth bared.
     The first time we spoke was about my dark eyes,
     and how it was hard to look through them.
     When maybe you wanted to talk about your friends,
     or that new show your sister told you about,
     maybe you needed me to listen and nod.

And that girl, how I hated that girl.
The way she wore flower dresses more innocently then I ever could.
I hated that she was more street smart
than book smart and the only sadness she'd ever known was
a messy room and no place to write.
I don't know if she writes, but I hope she does,
and I hope it's beautiful, and I hope it's about you
and your love, and it's better than mine.
That girl gave you feathery dreams and pillow kisses
when the sun was up and that girl laughed like she had
never held a gun, and that girl was ******* clueless, but soft.
And I was a brick wall
trying to pass for a window.

I understand now that I talk too much about my past,
that my cries for help are too loud, even when I'm quiet.
I understand that you needed a break.
A break from all of my heaviness and fast motion.
I gave you string theory,
she gave you small talk.