#crookedteethchronicles

I lay in our bed with someone new surrounded by little pieces she'll never recognize as you. The memories of your morning breath make me smile and she asks when I turned into such a "morning person". As her hand slides across my chest the way yours would on sleepy Saturday's I can't help but hide behind eyelids because I don't see a future here anyway so what's the point in overworking my retina. I muster some courage and kiss the top of her head. Her hair doesn't smell like yours. Her fingers aren't as long and I didn't take her shoes off or crack her toes before we went to bed last night because she isn't you. And even though that's not her fault I harbor resentment for her like great ports harbor ships anchored in black seas begging to beat the waves. I know it's not right. I know it's not fair. But she's here and I'm not entirely sure you ever were so I'll let her drift back to sleep peacefully and hope I can find a way to keep pretending second loves taste as sweet.