I plead with you to stay for another ten minutes. Not because I would miss you , but I couldn’t bear the thought of you going back home to another woman, your woman. You plead with me to let you go, because you should be home. I bite my lips and stare ahead , tears in my eyes, not caused by jealousy but by envy.
No I’m not jealous of her , I wouldn’t even choose you. But I’m envious of the power she has over you, to make you go home, to make you start a family.
I don’t want a family with you, I wouldn’t even choose you. But you chose her. And it hurts, the piercing type.
You chose her, and that made me feel less of a woman. I am a woman, created to be desired.
I am a woman, too proud to admit my loneliness, too afraid to commit.
I remember this prayer ‘I hope the one you choose, chooses you back’ and I laugh. because it’s impossible. It’s been a chase, a cycle, a game , all of my life.
You taste like you belong to another woman. I look at you : my poor taste. Why did I make this choice? What was I thinking?