I know I am a catch,
I have many things to offer the person I choose to love,
But the manner in which you treated me,
I can’t help but feel disposable,
Like a forgotten old sweater,
Full of holes and tatters,
No longer appealing, but not worth the effort to throw out,
Treated as if there will be others,
Someone much more suited to what you desire,
But still important enough to leave hanging on,
Like the lint collecting under a bed,
Equally irritating, is the fact that I love you,
For all that you are and all that you profess to be,
As idealistic as it appears, it doesn’t change the pain in my chest,
Or the mental gymnastics I am performing trying to decide what I would like to do,
I wish my feelings could be as disposable as I was made to feel…
Nov 2022- R1

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