Entry Two: She was Pretty Also

She wanted so badly to be his Jackie—she pretended not to notice he loved me like Marilyn.

Thoughts & Confessions Turned into Verses

He told me I was dangerous,
and I sipped the word delicately
​like a cocktail I wasn't supposed to order.
I laughed,
let my fingers linger on his wrist,
and told him I wasn't trying to be.
But maybe I was.
Because I liked the way he looked at me.
I wore his lies like a pretty filter-so the affair could pass for a love story.
The first time he touched me,
I didn't know he belonged to someone else.
​But by the time I found out, I belonged to him.

Penned in the Glow of the Mirror

Girl, listen. I don’t believe in stealing men. I got wrapped up in something I didn’t fully understand. I was young and I have a serious appetite for romance and being seen in a beautiful way.

That combination can make you reckless before it makes you wise.

No one writes songs for the mistress behind the affair. But I wrote poems for the man who lied to both of us. I believed in him more than he ever deserved—because that’s what I do.

I believe in lost causes if they kiss well. I wasn't the villain when I saw stars in his eyes, but I became one when I ignored her name in his mouth. 

I wasn't trying to ruin a home. Just wanted to feel wanted in mine. I believed his kisses meant something. Like, I'd be chosen. 

I wasn’t proud of it—but I wore it well. I learned how to smile like the whispers were compliments, how to step into a room with someone else’s man on my skin, and pretend I belonged there.

I was just a guy who got burned trying to be someone’s everything—when I was always going to be a mistake. There’s a shame in being the other. A guilt that doesn’t go away, even when you try to be honest with yourself. 

Call me scandalous—not heartless.

Years later, she left a note telling me to count my blessings. Because if I speak, she could destroy my dreams. But I’m not afraid to be the enemy of a well-behaved pageant queen. Like—buckle up, sweetie. I grew up in Pennsylvania. And thrive in anything scandalous, So being messy is no problem.

That’s when the guilt went away. They both tried to make me the villain. He told people I was obsessed with him, yet I was the one who had to leave with secrets stuck to my skin.

I almost told her he loved me. I think she married him knowing that already. She hoped I’d heal. Funny. I hoped she’d wake up.

​She wanted to be his Jackie so badly—she pretended not to notice he loved me like Marilyn.

They’re still married. And I haven’t talked to them in years. But every now and then, I catch him in my story views. Who's obsessed? Just saying...
​
Xo,
Paul

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