173 : private account

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at 2:26 am, i find myself typing in her username on social media once more. of course, i cannot see her photos. she doesn't follow me, nor i her. but i still look at photos of her from distance accounts and wonder what she had that i did not. the words that vomited from your distasteful lips echo in my ears, reminding me every night and morning of what you did while i patiently waited for you to come home that night .
you told me step by step, word for word, touch by touch, moment by moment— what you did that night.

how words insulting my existence tainted the air as you thrusted yourself in her, the girl you always wanted, the girl you always lusted over, the girl you desired so fucking bad.

"let's hope your girlfriend doesn't see." she bit your neck.

tall, pretty, skinny, and sociable. that's what she was. that's what i was, but not quite enough. not far enough and quick enough i suppose.

"i put my hand on her stomach to lower her down when she finished."

do you know? do you? DO YOU FUCKING KNOW?
her face, one that i have never seen in person, plasters itself on the walls of my nightmares.

she reminds me of what i was not.

"we always had so much fun together."

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