That Should Be Me

The way she tosses her hair

disgusts me.

And when you place your hand on hers

I rage

and I cry

because, at one time, your hands were for me.

Never hers.

Not to hold.

And the way you give her all your attention

leaving me in the winder rain or the sooty snow,

infuriating. 

She laughs her fake, all too friendly laugh

and you smile,

but your eyes glance my way,

like always,

confusing me even more, and you know.

I know you know. Then in unison, 

you both stand and she walks two paces ahead,

but just enough for you to 

rest your hand where it shouldn't be. 

She turns and smiles, lie you  just said something funny.

She flirts in a way that makes me want to pick my eyes out 

and peel my skin off.

and pull all my hair our piece by piece.

Everything is wrong.

Like Hermione loving Harry. 

Like a Honey and Jelly sandwich.

Socks with sandals.

Chicken nuggets on pizza,

pr playing the super bowl with a tennis ball.

They don't go.

yes, 

you can try but it wont feel right.

There's always something better,

maybe even something you've known before 

right in front of your face.

and I can tell that

in the back of your mind, you know it too.

Because you glance back and look at me walking away

and I'm hurting because she's where I want to be

and where I used to be

and where I should be.

Disgusting.