She is angel. She is sweetness and light. She is better than I could ever be. She is all love and easy emotion. She is forgiveness and laughter and a touch on the arm.
I am spiky. I am complicated. I am exhausting. I am all barbed honesty and mismatched juxtapositioning. I am never satisfied. I will not go easy on myself.
There is no comparison and yet I feel compared. There is nothing fair about this. There is nothing fair in games of the heart.
I have none. Heart. I have a hollow ache. I have the wind rushing though me. Still. I have sex. There will always be sex. And that is more than any heart could provide.