Why do you think I borrowed your lipstick?

Why do you think I used your Chapstick?

Why do you think I wore your lipgloss?

Why do you think I hold your hand all the time?
Why do you think I play with your hair ’til my arms are sore?
Why do you think I let you win in tic-tac-toe?

Why do you think I pretend to be mad when I lose?
Why do you think I bake for you?
Why do you think I buy you snacks?
Why do you think I cry to you?
Why do you think I tell you everything?
Why do you think I look for you in a room full of people?
Why do you think I hug you all the time?
Why do you think I tell you not to fall for your friends?
Because I do. I fall for my friends.

When you did my makeup in the truck for the concert, you held my face so tenderly while brushing on eyeshadow.
The way you tenderly wiped the corner of my lips.
I don’t know how to feel.
Why did I feel so happy when you broke up with your girlfriend?
I felt so weird when I met her.
Jealous, possessive.
You aren’t even mine, and you never were.
Never will be.

And I know I don’t have a right to be emotional.

I got you together, what did I expect?
I want you to be happy no matter what.

I have a partner, I know that.
I know.
And now, you do too.
I would understand if you were confused.

That day in drawing class, when you grabbed my arm to ask me a question? You just kept it there eventually.
I turned so red. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.
I need to leave. I need to go to New York so you’ll never see me again. So I’ll never see you again and think, what if?

Because, what if?

What if I kissed you?
What if I told you how I felt?
What if

But I don’t want to know, because I’m scared.
And you deserve better.
So have better.
Better isn’t me.