two blacks marks on my clean record – two people i loved, now loving each other. his lips tracing across her skin, feeling her freckled constellations instead of my smooth serenity. she can’t meet my eyes in the hallways and he’s done everything possible to forget my name: scrubbed his tongue, cut his hair, torn out the carpet in his room because it still smelled like my perfume. but i’m in both of them like traces of blood at a crime scene: you can hide it but it will come out in the right light. sometimes when he looks at her all he will see is me. and that’s the most i could hope for.
- my best friend and my ex // abby // prompt for anon