Stalking My Ex On Twitter

How dare she be beautiful in that picture
Laughing, arms raised to the falling snow
Wearing those sweatpants I hated.
In most photos, she looks every part the
Trashy, classless, misanthropic shrew
That I discovered in my bed.
She used me and cast me aside,
And I resent her for good reason.

But sometimes,

There is a pure moment
And she resembles the
Witty, vital, fearless Valkyrie
That I fell for.
How dare she remind me how it felt
When she was mine.

editors note:

The cake you ate and no longer have; doesn’t mean you don’t like cake, just not THAT cake. (We welcome Alexandria to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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