When Goldfish Die

There’s no easy way to survive, when the only one telling you lies is the person in your head, spraying dry rose shampoo on fake love dreads, dragging out the mental movies from my foolish yesterday, That old familiar replay, everything that he ever did, when he sat next to me and I rubbed his sweet hair, when he brought up mid conversation something that I said six months prior, the way he likes to correct me at least once on the hour, the way he sits and stares at his phone to show me that he’s the one with the power, the way that I never see him anymore and whenever I reach out to hurt him or to help, my mind goes wild with the accusation that I am only betraying myself, the effort that he shows me, that red flag that he has no interest left, is like a million “told you so” pin pricks in the meatiest part of my heft, and it’s not like he didn’t warn me that he only gives everyone a little part, and unfortunately to find out which side of him I fell on, I had to sacrifice my heart, or bring another girl with me as tribute to earn his trust, I used to be in control of this, but obsession is a side effect of lust, there is no easy way, I know now, for me to survive, when I worship an easy rider who eats the tears that I cry and I hate being sadly sentimental, I hate being moody and grim, so there is nothing else to do but find someone to fuck who looks better than him…

 

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