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Catharsis: An Unhealthy Vent

June 4, 2007
tags:

Something makes me hate her.

Is it that you want her?
Is it because she has those things —
Things I can never have.

Is it her her face?
Her breasts?
Or is it because she has those beautiful eyes?

Those —
Enormous…
Perfect…
Round…
Sparkling…
Eyes

Or is it my —
Ordinary face?
Not-so-enormous breasts?
My plainly pretty eyes?

It mourns my soul and I suspect that you may have chosen her for:

Her face,
Her breasts,

Her Enormous…
Perfect…
Round…
Sparkling…
Eyes

Those tangible things.

Something makes me hate her:
Is it just because you choose her,
Because you chose her over me?

Does your choice have me scared?

Scared that I’m
not enough

Not smart enough…
or funny enough …
or perhaps my soul…
is not enough…
For anyone.

Because it isn’t attached to
Her face,
Her breasts,

Her —
Enormous…
Perfect…
Round…
Sparkling…
Eyes

That are so much more beautiful than mine.

I like to think time a great equalizer
That in the end we we all be ugly
But as she ages so will I

And no matter how ugly she becomes
She was still the one
Who was pretty enough

For you to care about:
Her brain,
Her laugh,
Her soul.

And you are mates because you chose her.

And I’m —
Lonely…
I’m scared…
I am
Not enough?
For anyone.

But she is yours
Quite
Enough
for you

Her brain,
Her laugh,
Her soul.
Her face,
Her breasts,

Her —
Enormous…
Perfect…
Round…
Sparkling…
Eyes

Something makes me hate her.

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