You thought I wouldn't notice.
You were very wrong.
I noticed the marks on your neck, the smell of perfume on your clothes, the small red stains by your lips.
I noticed you sneaking away for hours, how you'd always seem angry around me, how you'd say that you'd leave me, but then you'd return, but only to fuck me and leave again.
I noticed that the only pleasures that I brought you were sexual.
I noticed.
So I tried to be more for you.
I wore the same shade of that damn red lipstick, I found a similar scent of perfume, I even tried to put my own marks on your neck so that I could mark you as mine.
And so that you'd want me as yours.
I didn't realize then that it wasn't me who was the problem, it was you. Your disloyalty, your insecurities, your unhappiness. Not me.
Not me.
So fuck the red lipstick, I'll find someone who doesn't want me for makeup.
Fuck the hickeys, I can give them to someone else.
Fuck the perfume, I can find someone who hates the scent.
Fuck you.
Because I don't need lipstick to be worth it.
