I thought I had a best friend once.
She was smart and
blonde and
ethical and
great.

We don't talk anymore.
Because she is
vain and
rude and
better than me.

I don't miss her.

I have a new best friend now.

She plays video games,
and likes to read,
and is nice to everyone.

She doesn't start rumors
or tell me she's better at everything
or use me to drag herself out of her sister's shadow.

And even though I'm not myself,
and even though things hurt right now,
I don't worry that she's going to leave me.

Maybe it is unfair to compare them.
Maybe I should leave Was and Is alone.
Maybe I shouldn't
I definitely shouldn't
let it get to me.

But do they ask you, too?
"Do you still talk to her?"
"Have you heard from her lately?"
"What happened to you two?"

She wasn't a good match for me.

I hope you're happy.
(No, I don't.)
I'm sorry that things aren't going well.
(No, I'm not.)
I know that it will get better.
(I hope it doesn't.)

She and I dance in our pajamas
at three in the morning.

She and I danced in a deadly Tango
that never seemed to stop.

We see each other whenever we can,
and kickandscreamandwhine when we can't.

We didn't see each other often,
and it rarely bothered us.

I'm terrified that it will happen again.

Maybe I should leave Was and Is alone.
Very alone.
Maybe I should knock on wood
and pray that Was and Is
does not become Was and Was and Isn't.

I'll keep dancing.
We'll keep playing.
You'll keep keeping.

I hope you're happy.
(I really do.)
I'm sorry that things aren't going well.
(I really am.)
I know that it will get better.
(Everything will be okay.)