my life can be summed up by the white border of a polaroid photograph.

late at night, my itunes shuffle will hit the songs that was ours with them.
and i'll wonder if he ever had a song with anyone else.
and i'll wonder what it was.
and i'll hope that i've never, ever heard it; that i never, ever will.
then i stare at the mirror and curse the green snake that's coiling around my neck and clenching my throat in a knot of doubt. i'll think about my past and then i'll think about his and the snake's set aflame by how angry i grow at the thought of anyone else tracing his collarbone or hugging his neck.

he'll tell me that there was never anyone else, not like there's me.
i'll know it's the truth. but my throat is still in knots.