I hated her.
Flesh and blood, the way his
hands would wrap around her
waist, her thighs and she’d breathe
a sigh of relief and meet his eyes and
think, he loves me.
She was younger, so it made no sense.
If I was dumb then she was dumber,
and was it possible to be easier than I?
I’d deny it if anyone asked, but for him I’d
move mountains, smash, sink, scream
surrender. I hated her, I hated her.
Her stupid jeans, her happy smile, her ugly
friends and her God damn purple coat.
Then he stole from her, too
And I thought, it’s not her hate but you.
For the way I twist and bend around
your finger, the way she breaks in every
wave as I sit and squirm at another,
another, another her on your lap.
More thighs, more lips, waists, you don’t
even have a type it’s just us,
spinning and drowning and screaming
inside your insipid pot of hate,
turning and pitting and plotting
us against our own. Ugly,
I used the word ugly.
A boy with a crooked smile.
- H.M. (rock bottom regrets)