Slunched

Now I know why we’re not together:

I stand in the middle, shouting, cigarette between my ring finger and pinky, ordering chaos to orbit around; you, you sit at the corner, Michael Buble playing on your laptop, trying to drone out the disorder.

Now I know why we’re not together:

I elevate myself as queen, my workers running around while I sip tea; you, you quietly stack monobloc chairs no one asked you to do.

Now I know why we’re not together:

I lounge about, crying when I’m displeased, crying when I don’t get my way; you, you smile even though I have hurt you, even though I was the villain and you were the victim.

Now I know why we’re not together:

Now I know I’m not really a nice person though I claim to be; you, you with your yeses that make people around you light up with happiness.

Now I know why we’re not together:

Because if we were, you would’ve been a worse person.

Now I know why we’re not together:

Now I know it was never you; it was me. It was not that you were either dense or stupid. It was I who was dense and stupid. 

Now I know why we’re not together:

It’s not that you weren’t special. It’s that I wasn’t.

Now I know why we’re not together:

Because you will meet someone who will deserve you. Because you will find someone who would make you happy, who would make you smile as you have me. Because you will find someone who would make you a better person.

Now I know why we’re not together:

I know. I’m not happy about it. But now I know.

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