Take up more space as a woman. Take up more time. Take your time. You are taught to hide, censor, move about without messing up decorum for a man’s comfort. Whether it’s said or not, you’re taught balance. Forget that. Displease. Disappoint. Destroy. Be loud, be righteous, be messy. Do not see yourself like glass. Like you could get dirty and clean. You are flesh. You are not constant. You change. Society teaches women to maintain balance and that robs us of our volatility. Our mercurial hearts. Calm and chaos. Love only when needed; preserve otherwise.
I hear you’ve been telling all your friends that you’re done with me like you always knew things wouldn’t work out. And I’ve been hearing things from people that I don’t want to talk to, like it matters who you’re sleeping with now. Can I erase from my mind anything that you said or any time that we spent with each other? I don’t want to waste away another cell on a memory when you’re just another meaningless lover. Forget the nights that we spent laughing until the morning on your bedroom floor without a thought about your roommate asleep down the hall. Forget the days we’d waste in bed, tangled, the smoke still on your breath, undressed and pinning you up to the wall. I swore I heard you talking when I was tossing in my sleep. You were always trying to walk in circles around me. I was out one night when I saw you and you froze me where I stood. I would hate you if I could. I would hate you but I’m not finished yet. Even you, up on that pedestal, the time will come when you will deconstruct yourself and remake what you are. When it does you’ll remember me and the words I spoke and wonder how you ever could have strayed so far.