Mannequin

I was just a mannequin;
a body for your lips to press against.
And I can’t lie,
That’s partially why I detest

You.

We aren’t even friends,
we never were (first),
And I don’t know who
is to blame for that.

Because part of me wants to sit here
And beg
and plead
for you to take me
into your life somehow;
fit me around
your room-mates,
Taco,
and Kali.

I’m jealous
that you respect her as a person,
while I’m just a means to an end.

And don’t say
that she’s what I thought you wanted.
Because you do want her;
and your ex,
and me…in ways you shouldn’t
be thinking about.
Remember,
“respect”?

Deep down,
I know you’re not good for me,
and I know that
whatever we had for a week
should end in smoke,
and you should let me seethe.

But you made me feel like shit,
and I think you ought to know it.
I think you ought to know,
that you aren’t as great as you want to be.
And she may satisfy a craving,
when your real problem is,
you don’t know what you want,
or how to be lonely.

Two and a half years
is a long time.
I know.
Try two years and ten months;
then bring in her ex.

But if your mind still wanders,
it’s not because you’re human.
It’s because she isn’t your everything.
That’s something you have to realize
and accept.

And you shouldn’t need her to be
complete.
But right now you’re selfish,
and can’t see the forest for the trees.

This is a rant,
without me expecting an apology.
This is me stating you are
quickly becoming nothing and no one to me.
Because where I thought you were friend,
you used up what little I had left of me,
and disguised it as respect.

Yet I know,
if I let my lips,
get close enough to kiss,
things like time and space,
will no longer exist.

But what should it matter?
How do I feel,
if I am just your mannequin?

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