My Revenge

I look for you, every time I go out, even when I know you’re not there. 

I won’t let you catch me off guard again. 

I desperately want to return your things: your book, some socks, the knife you left in my heart. I think it’s only right to return what was borrowed. 

I hear your voice when no one is talking. 

A part of me wants to speak back, to warn you of what I have planned, to tell you I don’t mean it and all is forgiven and I hope you forgive me in turn. The other part wants to rip your lying tongue out. 

I know you think you already know what I have in store. I’ve had much, much time to work the ins and outs of it, to smooth out the edges before carefully trying it on. 

But I assure you, you won’t see this coming. You’ll never see it coming, because I’m sure you think it’s about you, right? 

It was all about you in the end, anyway. 

I bet you guess that whatever I do, it will be equal parts sinister and lovely. Majestic and hellish, just as you saw me. I’m sure you think I plan to sneak up behind you, whisper everything you ever wanted to hear, every sweet nothing I denied you, before reaching around and snapping your neck. Or maybe you think I’ll show up on your doorstep, dawning a look that begs for sweet forgiveness, spilling out promises we both know I can’t keep, before throwing acid all over the button down I had picked out for you. Or better yet, I bet you jerk off to the idea of me walking right up to you, making the eye contact I never could seem to make before owning up to all of my wrongs, apologizing for my shortcomings before promising to improve myself, right before throwing myself into your upon arms. 

The knife I then slide in between your shoulder blades hardly needs to be mentioned. It’s all too poetic, isn’t it? 

Of course, these routes are hardly my style. What I have in store takes the cake and serves it cold. 

When I see you- but that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m not going to see you. You won’t be getting the time of day or the day of the week or any other arbitrary marker from me if you dare look my way. 

You see, for the first time in a long time, I feel whole. I’ve remembered who my best friend and ally is, and I get to see her every morning when I brush my teeth. 

When I see you- or rather, when you see me, you won’t even stop to stare because you won’t recognize me, because I’m not who you spent the last few years with. I’m completely different, yet I haven’t changed at all. 

And in the brief moment you see me a thought may even flash through your mind, a thought that you wish you could have gotten to know her better, that you wish you had dated her instead. My scent of concentrated self-love piquing your interest, piquing the interest of every guy I pass by from that day forward.

And for the first time, I won’t notice.