“If she looks too good to be true, then she’s not.”
Yes, that’s what he said. Apparently, “perfect for you" is never gonna happen, so settle for good enough, right? That girl there, that girl across the room, that girl still brimming with life, red love dripping from her lips – she’s the one you want. This girl, this girl standing beside you this girl who knows the look in your eyes more than anyone does – she's the one you have. She’s not bad, in fact, she’s good enough. She’s someone you could live with. She could make you breakfast and greet you with a kiss. Your clothes will be pressed and ready for the day. Coffee poured in a tumbler, black – just how you like it. You walk out the door, toothpaste still minty on your breath. Do you still feel her lips burning like a brand, or has it cooled, scabbed, and fallen away by 8 AM?
The clock will turn a few more times, the dishes will be washed, and the front door locked. Minutes after you leave, she too will go her own way. She’ll walk down the street each day, like clockwork. Her caffeinated mind wakes up with anxious thoughts. “Did I lock the back door? Is the gas still on? Does he think of me?” Does he?
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
The rhyme echoes in her mind like a mantra, plucking petals, counting, hoping they land on odd, hoping they never fall…
Now here we are. A pleasant gathering, a pretty room full of nice people. A room full of walls slowly collapsing, dragging my hands down to sleep, dragging my heart to my feet. You love me. You say so every day. I am full of love, filled to the brim, smothered, drowned. Am I selfish, am I horrible for wishing I was more than good enough? Some days, I wish I was her. Still brimming with life, red love dripping from my lips. If she looks too good to be true and she’s not, are you glad I’m real?