To Make Monsters Out of Girls

by Amanda Lovelace

you had years on me & i was too young to realize you were the one who should have known better.

what you need to know about the monster: when they threaten to disappear without a trace, they never really do. pay close attention next time & notice how they always leave the door cracked open a little behind them in fear that you won’t invite them in the next time they’re feeling insecure & lonely & starved for something more loyal than they’ve ever been.

how can you expect me to be friends with you when the inside of my mouth is crusted over with scabs from the effort it takes not to say those three words you never want to hear from me again?

“that girl is mine,” the monster-boy growled. “that’s where you’re wrong. that girl belongs to the coffee shops & the bookstores & the treetops—but mostly she just belongs to herself,”

didn’t anyone ever warn you not to try to trick a girl who reads? she’s already seen everything.

you cannot make the ones with the wanderlust eyes pause in one place—not even if that place has your name etched all over it.

sometimes no closure tells us more than the closure ever could.

you’re allowed to give yourself permission to fall harder than the wine does into the bottom of your glass, but make sure you do it while knowing there’s no one you should trust more than you trust yourself.