I Don’t Think of You

When the sun seeps in between the curtains at 6am and signals the day ahead, I don’t think of you anymore. I think of him. Him, with his pouty lips and his dimples. And I think about how the sun would make his blue eye sparkle like the ocean if he was laying there with me. But I can still remember the satisfaction in your face when you pointed out that there was no sparkle in mine.

So maybe I do think of you.

I think of you, and all the bad things you’ve ever said to me. How I became so accustomed to it, all that the negativity is drilled into my brain like screws in wood. And how I never noticed how poorly you treated me, because your eyes sparkled too.

When I swing on the swing, shut my eyes tight and let go of the chains, I don’t imagine you being there to catch me anymore. You never were there. I’ll be in his arms before you even realize i’m up in the air.

And when I’m happy, I don’t keep a tight toothless smile. He likes the gap in between my teeth, even if you never did.

When I lay in bed at night and stare up at the ceiling like it’s the night sky, I don’t wish you were there anymore. He’ll be there, and there’s no competition.

So I lay my head on his chest and his fingers graze my neck, leaving goosebumps on my skin. And I don’t think of you.

Not one bit.

And when I tell him how much I love him, without a trace of cloudiness, he tells me it back. And he tells me that he adored the crack in my voice as I spoke those three beautiful words.

Just like that, all the times you flinched at the crack in my voice was replaced by the shapes his lips made when he told me he loved it.

Soon I will forget about you, because he kisses every bruise on my body that you left.

And when those are gone, so are you.

s.b.

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