He was my harbour, my hiding place, my heart.
Now he is hers.
She was my lighthouse, my childhood, my sister.
Now she is his.
I miss her cooking and good advice. I miss his kisses and strong arms.
A betrayal with a bitter taste; either way, I lose. An open wound, which constant reminders and jealousy openly douse with salt.
The hourglass of patience has run out—annoyance and anger where pity and sympathy once were. Pity and sympathy are things I have no need of.
I blame no one but myself, for I have been my own worst enemy. Free-falling tears have stained both face and heart, relief at so-called justice has turned me rotten; hurtful remarks at innocents have made me a villain.
I cradle evil things and keep them close—jealousy, anger, bitterness, and ill will have hardened my heart toward all that used to love me.
I have no harbour, no lighthouse—I am alone, in the middle of the ocean, drowning in a maelstrom.