THE MUSE'S PAGES: dusk

April 9, 2022

FRUSTRATION IN A POEM

The good and bad always ends up in a poem,
my pen noticed the flags right before I saw them—
I lowered my pride in front of your passive-aggressive jabs—
that took a lot from me but I don't think you understand.
I never expected quick forgiveness from a simple "sorry,"
but you should've at least listened to my reason and apology.

You get bothered when I talk about your cold messages,
you get annoyed when my messages don't pass your vibe check.
The usual start of something more is like balancing on a tightrope,
but with you feels like I walk on eggshells near a treacherous slope.
Even in small and naive situations, unfair treatment irks me,
but I promised to change for the better so I smiled and tolerated it.

Do you see those girls you've loved before in me?
Or are you looking for what you felt with them with me?
Suspicions flood my mind every time you show their photos,
you brought them up so much that I question this-what I chose.
I never asked about your ex-lovers, they aren't a threat,
but when it's my turn, in mad jealousy, you always fret.

Running things slowly and steadily to last longer than a fling's time
because I feel like I finally found the right person to call mine.
Two of the most imperfect souls connected in the most perfect way,
but sometimes the string gets blurry with flaws and mistakes.
I'm sorry that I'm not the simple puzzle you imagined me to be,
but you're so frustrating that I crave for something more and nothing.