I Won’t Drink Your Coffee

You don’t know me, but as I look over the books on your shelf, I begin to know you. It appears that you and I are quite different, sans one glaring similarity featured in pictures on your fridge and next to me at night.

You don’t know me, but if you did you would hate me and I would understand. I am the girl we all hope will never exist; I am the new woman.

I am in your house while he gathers more things to take to mine, and let me tell you that if you ever feel jealousy creeping in, there is no need. Maybe someday you will crave the heartache and look at his social media page, and maybe you will see me there. If you do, I can imagine the thoughts that will follow. I want to reassure you that I am less pretty than pictures would lead you to believe. My house will never be as beautiful as yours and my heart will never be as kind. I will never take your place, nor would I want to. I will always be the other woman, and he will never forget that.

I feel like an intruder. I was careful not to touch anything, I’ve already left my unseen mark in the home you shared with him. I have crossed boundaries that you are not aware of and that I am ashamed of.

But when he asked if I wanted a cup of espresso from a machine I could never afford, I said no. I slept with the man you love, and I am in your house, among the leftovers of the life the two of you shared, but I will not drink your coffee.

I’ve taken enough from you.