The last 3 letters of the spring

Trust me, I am a better leaver

If I were to leave
you would have known
you would have never had to guess
I would have left my job and given up my awesome apartment  in Prague
I would have moved cities, no!
countries
somewhere where you need to board a plane or reserve a train seat to get home
I would have blocked you on WhatsApp and Messenger (even though we never used that one)
Reddit too!
I would have tracked you down and blocked your account (how? Idk: cool cool; hot stuff; true; some smartass joke; that's what she said; ofc, I missed you; you are a witch; oui, me too)
I would have never stalked you on LinkedIn just to make sure you are still in the city I once loved or working at the same company
I wouldn’t have bothered to remember their logo
If I knew I wasn’t staying forever, I wouldn’t have learnt your last name, or your phone number
not even your address
I would have killed every butterfly 
early
with my bare hands
I would have slept around
often
to make sure you hate me and never get too close 
I would have definitely used a condom with you—skin to skin is too final—irrevocably decisive
that’s love in my book (yeah, the one about you, 'cause I am obssesive, compulsive and crazy...or maybe 
I merely cared?!)
I would have never kissed my shins
No meeting your friends (not even the girls, especially the girls!!!)
No Christmas gifts that forever ruined certain fragrances for me—I still flinch whenever—yeah,
whenever, but it’s never you… 
If I were you and knew there was no future, I would have dated other people  right away
I wouldn’t have let you sleep on my belly and pick a side in my bed
I wouldn’t have cooked in your kitchen, or bought a toothbrush for your place
I wouldn’t have left mine at yours either—when I close my eyes, I see myself on that second day after—
I threw it away like you never happened—fell asleep on the bathroom floor surronded by used tissues—my flatmate had
to call an ambulance because, yk, inconsolable stuff—it would pass, they said, but that must be how death feels for someone

If I were to leave I would have left forever

If I were you
I wouldn’t have let you wear my hoodies
I wouldn’t have kept them overly long—yk, when you told me about her—it was almost like my skin had
been made of glass, and you broke it with one casual “oui” like it was easy—like it was meant to be—
this—me writing a bunch of poems—you fucking her—this whole time—there is no right way to grieve—we both loved—but then—if I knew I was leaving, I would have been good at it—you would have never learned about someone else—I wound’t have hid behind a two-week silence and a funny storry about my flowers which were really really dead in a box—kinda' poetic—it would have been romantic if I weren't hyperventilating—did you do it to hurt me—kissing her shins—raw and vulnerable—sleeping at her place—weekends together—holding her hand—doubling down were you fell short with me—basically copy-pasting us—basically testing heartbreak on me like a freaking guinea pig—did you do it to finish me off—knowing I know—
knowing I called it—a witch is a witch after all


"If you knew you were leaving, at least you could have been good at it—yeah, I am a better leaver—
If I knew I was leaving, I wouldn’t have stayed for so long—I wouldn’t have said I loved you—whatever that meant—I would have stopped you—I would have looked after you"


So tell me how not everything was about me?*