it took ten months for me to look in the mirror
and see the victim that I was always destined to be.

six months ago, I ran from that girl,
from the abuse and the pain and the deceit that she believed to be an unfinished fairytale.

why is it that six months later I still long
for the touch of the woman
that used the very same hands that one loved me
to throw my heart against the closest wall
and shatter it with no hesitation?

why is it that six months later I still have yet to part with the gifts given to me,
not out of love she had for me,
but relief that there was someone filling the gap between her living room couch and the bed her girlfriend occupied upstairs alone?

why is it that six months later I still justify the harsh words, the physical blows, the betrayal as what I deserved
for making her unfaithful
to a girl who was no longer her first,
and only,
love?
a girl that will someday soon be walking down the aisle and saying "i do" to the woman who spent many of her days planning a second future,
not with her,
but with me.


six months later and I still see me, a victim, reflected in my mirror

and I miss her.