βWhen the next woman arrives You will tuck my name under your tongue until the day she asks you to spit it out. She will demand to know who it was that taught you heartbreak. And in your story of us you will tell her about the broken glass girl that you tried to piece together. You will tell tales of your bravery, selflessness, and compassion And you will tear up over how I repaid you with jagged blade kisses and emergency room wounds. You will declare your heroism and you will bemoan my rot and ruin. You will forget about the poetry I left on your lips and she will taste this. She will see the beauty in the madness She will find my giggle in your day dreams She will feel my memory on your fingertips. She will know I was not a tragedy and I will become the ghost she canβt stop haunting.β
β The woman who comes next.
