Devil on Your Shoulder.

There were so many times. I was never good on the spot. But in quiet moments, dark and early hours the list is so long, so many examples.

It was so easy for you.

I was always quicker, smarter, but I couldn’t, can’t do it like you.

Stand there and say something you don’t mean.

Word it all so perfectly, plausible and impossible to disprove, because you’d only do it about your feelings.

I knew when something was bothering you. Getting it out was like pulling teeth, like I was somehow hurting you by making you talk to me.

You should’ve wanted to talk to me, trusted me.

I trusted you.

You changed so much in not so long at all. We said it wasn’t for me.

That was one we did together, so I can’t count it. Not on the list.

To everyone you were almost perfect, in your way, you had your niche, the devil on people’s shoulder.

That should’ve been a red flag.

You loved it. Pushing people to, I don’t know, have fun? Was it fun? Or did you just not want to be alone in those self-destructive behaviours that define you.

We both drank too much, so I can’t hold that against you. But I still do.

Because it was different, we never had to leave anywhere early because of me.

You weren’t okay.

But you were.

The houseplant in the corner of your office goes browner every day.

How can you walk past it? Not notice? You do see it. I know you do.

You just choose not to. What is going on up there?

What’s the devil on your shoulder telling you to do now?