Relentless Hello
Here you are again, your relentless Hello breathing down my neck. You again, the very definition of Other. It is not so much that I resent your reoccurrence, That I resent your reappearance; I find comfort in my seething, Warmth in hating you, solace in your homemade wreck. Here you are again, flaunting your wrapped finger still, It's you with your pointy whispers wrung out in saccharine silks, Sickly and alluring. And you call out to me, otherworldly, never-ending: "That is she." I find comfort in my seething you see, As you set me apart, designate me as the Other woman to your entourage, Set me ablaze with your own red letter, Revel in your choking mirage. At least I can say confidently now: my sorrow not in vain, The irony clear, you the Other woman, you the heart polluter, You the inconsiderate and parched bane. It must be December that brings you about this way, Fills my tired mind w