She is like a page in a book. A page who’s caught between two children, one turning left and the other turning right, it will only be a matter of time before she tears in two.
One is trying to move forwards, the other is trying to move back. I can feel the confusion and frustration surrounding her, it would simply be easier to let go and spare her this battle of attention.
I have said my piece “I don’t need to broadcast that you are my friend.” and still it is I who feels like the villain. Perhaps I am asking too much. Perhaps I have become so used to the inconsistency of my life that as with the man I see as my brother, I now see her as mine…
Mine to protect, mine to scold, mine to love. Mine.