Last time I saw your face was like the first time I saw your face.
I was nervous, I wanted to run as far away as I could, so that if you loved me, you'd feel compelled to follow. Like a magnet draws another magnet towards itself.
Every day of our lives together, I still felt the same. I was nervous, as if I knew there were better girls out there who deserved you more than I.
Last time I held your hand, I almost cried, but my silent tears I hid from your perfect-ness. Come to think of it, I hid everything that was me. I knew I wasn't enough. I could feel it and I knew you felt it too, and that's why you left. Or so I thought.

Last time I talked to you, I heard it in your voice. The plastic, I'm sorry. The way you followed me and ran away, like a cat toying a mouse. You made me love you and then hate the very thought of you.

Last time you texted, you laid all the blame on me and then I knew the truth.
Like an overweight woman with low self esteem, who finally bares it all without fear.

The bare naked truth, underneath the lowest layer.

There is a better woman out there.

I am her.

But you're not the better man.