You don’t know how hard it is to be a woman in love with you

I have frequently found it amusing
and also somewhat confusing
that so many people would ooh and ahh
over what they saw as my

constant
consistent
compersion

(or “frubble” depending on who you ask; same thing.)

I can’t count the times
I heard from someone close
that they were amazed at how
I’m apparently never

jealous
bitter
pissed off

about relationships, about who has or who doesn’t
never passive-aggressive, manipulating,
cold and calculating

it’s funny that they offer such high praise
and bizarre that they don’t ever gaze
at even the surface of what they see
and certainly never beyond it

I’m an incredibly jealous and bitchy woman
I’m angry at what I lack when everyone around me
has in unappreciated excess
I throw verbal daggers with precision
meant to wound
but not fatally
just enough to leave a lasting scar
an old ache that will linger
years later

don’t tell me how much you admire in me
something I never have possessed

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