It's not hatred that fills me, possibly some form of jealousy tinged with an ounce or two of bitterness
When you kind of suspect that somebody else is benefiting from her sexy new dress...
It's not so much anger at her for being misled, it's the lack of respect shown on his behalf that riles
When all you see are the pressure strains and lines; and he's getting all of the smiles
It's not anger and rage that runs through my veins at the thought of her with someone new
But sadness at the lack of desire for 'us' and how easy to say we are through
It's not me feeling sorry and down on myself for the way things have panned out and effort I wasted
But the fact that he has turned up all 'fresh' and is tasting the things that I tasted
I don't want them to fail or dream of them failing or want to gloat or scoff
But I also don't want him to have the pleasure of taking the knickers I bought her off
It's sadness I feel at the loss of our 'engine' that I tried to keep running and 'oiled';
And a little bit of comfort I have knowing how he will have to keep her spoiled
A touch of regret at the compliments and good times and laughter and jokes we have lost
And a touch of grief at the realisation of emptiness and all the emotional cost
There is a tad of bitterness at the secrecy I experience and how she only hears when he speaks
I used to call her 'sexy bum' and 'my gorgeous girl'; and he calls her 'cheeky cheeks'