The Other Woman

My Broken Heart

I was thinking today how much I hate being the other woman. How I’m not the one you spend your nights, just the one with whom you start your mornings. But seeing you every day makes my day.

I feel like someone else when I’m near you, like a heightened version of myself. Everything comes alive inside me. My heart beats faster. My breath quickens. My skin responds to the softest touch. There’s an unmistakable awakening between my legs.

Then you kiss me and my heart stops. I become motionless. How I wish I could freeze this moment like a photograph. But then it’s over. I have to leave. You have things to do.

I think about you the rest of the day. I wonder what you think about. If I occupy more thoughts than she does. I know you don’t love her. That you just keep her around to fill your lonely nights.

Why do you keep me around? Is it any reflection on her? Is she missing something that I have? I wish I knew. I wish I was the only girl you kiss today.

View metaphorist's Full Portfolio