Poetry

The Other Woman

In many a lovers story there’s always another. Another man. Another woman. 

One that is lusted after. 

The what if’s.

The I’m not good enough. 

Classification of leagues.

So many fish in the sea.

Always another. 

The part of the whole that is missing. 

A person to fill the void.

Soulmates.

I am not a half of a person. I’m no bandaid to soothe and heal some void. I belong to no class. 

I will not be the other woman. 

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