I’m angry because my soul is tied to his.
I’m angry because I want him, but I can’t have him.
I’m angry because he doesn’t feel as tormented as I do.
I’m angry because I don’t want another woman to take my place.
I’m angry because he’s in my life but he’s not a part of it.
How could he be?
We have to avoid seeing one another.
We start petty disagreements because we miss each other.
He’s far from my man.
He’s no longer a lover.
He’ll never be a friend.
And sometime soon,
I’m hoping he’ll be a memory I can’t recall.
Poet: Stefanie Parrott