I am the other woman.
Not the one who's curled around your man
While you rest alone;
I'm never good enough for that.

I am the woman that he never brought home,
The woman who he left in the dust
In order to caress your skin and call you baby.

I am the woman he talks about with
Indifference
When you ask about me he just nods his head
Maybe he says I just wasn't right for him
Or maybe he lays all my habits out for you to
Scrutinize.

I am the woman who still competes with you daily,
Full of self-loathing and confusion
Wondering what you have that I don't,
Wondering what makes you the perfect woman
And me just a forgotten memory.

I am the woman who reads the adoring
Social media posts
Of your lover or spouse,
And wonders why they're not about me.
(They're never about me.)