they’ll still watch your IG stories

Even when they’re mad at you even when they love you.

They’ll block you from the lives they’ve curated, conjured and salvaged,
lied to preserve and present.

They will convince themselves they’ve known no wrong while spying for your demise,

Bitter with the walls they’ve built to save themselves
from the fires thew two of you ignited

upon the world.

They will want to watch you burn, assuming they’ve preserved their veneer by climbing onto higher ground,

not for hating you, but for needing to see what would come of them should they surrender the futility of their masquerade. The price to pay, to pretend, to them,
to hope you fail so that they never will, so they can get away, and get away with all.

Not getting caught is winning.

They’ll still watch your IG stories even when they’re mad at you even when they love you even when they’ve loved you needing kneading your and having you, hating you for calling out their bluff when honesty was all there was,
hating you for seeing the thing about you two.
Blocking you to unsee themselves, hiding them to unsee you, hoping that you fall and flail,
simply to avoid acknowledgment

that they already have.

They’ll still watch your IG stories and you’ll convince yourself you’re the bigger, better man,

but then again, who the fuck inspects to check who’s checking in, you fucking egomaniac?