MY west side story

she
hates
me
there’s no way that I can blame her
when photos of my very self-have been found
intermingled in emails to you
surprises wrapped in nakedness with a bow that read
"for YOUR
eyes,
only"
my voice
lacing your answering service
thick and melodious
as if you
had just
left
no
I don’t blame her for hating me
for tearing each picture sent
every card or love letter written
for cursing my name everytime
804 mysteriously
appeared on your caller id
you don’t have to confirm it for me
I know
She hates me
and to be honest? I agree.
How apparent it is that I hate myself
for continuing to play concubine
second wife
in this poly-faux relationship
when I know what I deserve is
unconditional commitment
but I continue chase rainbows with Lucky
trying find gold at the other end
as you profess your love for me
daily
between hushed voiced phone calls
three word emails
and emergency grocery store trips for
butta pecan ice cream
how painful it must be
for her to continue to compare herself to me
yet never being able to tally up the whys
when she and I
are like night and day
and yes
it hurts
constantly falsifying my need to be
apart of your daily living
blowing hot air up my own skirt
as if I can complete you fully
when in truth
I am only the "good time gal"
because she
Is who you go home to
she is who you share a bed with
she is who your family knows
and I
I am fantasy
phone calls and emails
photo streams and
tags
messages that linger over digital connections
that
lasted over years that remain uncounted
this
digital ghost that is me
is who taps into her insecurities
because she will never be able to understand
why she
is not enough
and between the two of us
truth is
our love combined can never be enough for you
so I won’t waste my time hating her
nor will I pity her life as wife to you
I will just continue
to seek sustenance in
green clovers
blue diamonds
orange stars
pink hearts
and purple horseshoes