too weird to live, too rare to die

vi. girls/girls/boys

you start suspecting on your seventh visit--

and maybe you're nosy or maybe she's just sloppy,

but that second toothbrush by the sink isn't yours,

and you're not certain its hers, either;

you don't ask.

i've got a boyfriend, she tells you, eyes narrowed,

but that doesn't account for why she keeps letting you in,

why she never turns you away,

why every attempt at a conversation just ends with you in her bed;

and you don't catch on until you're at her house for the twelfth time,

and you see a car that isn't hers parked across the street,

with a pink-purple-blue flag stuck to its dented bumper,

and a girl that's not her stumbling out of the house on wobbly heels,

but not before kissing her one last time--

you fight about it the next time you see her,

and she says it's none of your business,

and it isn't,

but as long as she keeps letting you in, everything is your business,

and you're screaming, because she lied to you,

because all this time her other man was another woman,

because she's never looked at you the way she looked at her--

and you've got her up against the wall, and she's yelling and you're yelling, push another girl aside, push her aside and just give in,

because maybe you don't want to face the truth;

maybe you're better off alone,

just a villain vying for attention from a girl who can't decide,

a girl who lacks the inner confidence she projects so well on the outside.

she glares after you as you leave her house,

and because you have no sense of self-control you call after her,

if you change your mind, you know where to find me.

she spits a fuck you and a polished middle finger, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

and isn't that just sad, you think, tears blurring and obscuring your vision as the rain beats down on the highway; isn't it just sad that you're not that different, that neither of you can help it, that you're left cursing and crying and drowning your sorrows by a stupid four-letter word;

love is not a choice, she told you--

love is not a choice.