The Other Woman
by Reese Green
You’re so close, it’s a matter of inches… maybe even less.
Yet so far because you are unavailable.
The first person to make me wish I could be “the other woman”
Thereby making you a cowboy in your own right, simply b/c you are making me ride through a new and unknown territory of my personality.
Wanting to see the look that burns holes in her eyes,
Feel the touch that makes her skin tremble,
Hear the sultry sound of your bedroom voice that tickle her ear lobes.
Taste the lost in love kisses that her mouth savors.
Your presence excites and saddens me,
Your attention warms then chills me.
Worse, your hands on me melt me then harden me.
Every contradiction you make me feel, makes me want you more.
Torture must be gentler than this dichotomous hurricane.
A new painful learning experience in my life.
For that I despise you, but only until you say something that makes me laugh out loud and look away.
Get out of my head, no wait, come back… no no, you should go.
Before it was so easy to harshly judge those women who wanted someone taken,
Now I almost admire their ravenous ability to feast on sloppy seconds
Dare I say I
Envy their ability to disregard another woman’s claim on a heart?
Gawk at the flirty audacity that they wear as if it were priceless jewelry.
As much as it pains my body and lips to say, I still cannot now or ever, be the other woman.
Why? Must you even ask?! Because the karmic black hole that would open in my universe is not worth even your touch Mr. Unavailable.
I live in the fabric of sisterhood, thread myself in her intricacies, warm myself in her glow… how can I be a traitor to myself?
So good night, good riddance and although my body is cursing me out; my dignity is hugging me close; my self-respect is kissing my forehead; both are smiling as they whisper, “you GO girl”