I am not a Muse

I thought you loved my floppy golden fringe as you called it. I think I still look pretty cute. I thought you
d never fatigue of sketching my 'cherubic cheeks' as you termed them, in profile or face on.

I know I sometimes slipped into the vernacular, but surely I could've been forgiven? The petty irritations of the life I had to lead made me explode from time to time. But nobody's perfect. After all the hard work I have done for you, after all my sacrifices for you, I never dreamt my reward would be being tossed aside after less than three years. What did I do wrong? What has she got that I haven't got?

Now I've had a gutful. But I can't escape, her pictures are everywhere, critics raving about her creamy skin, her curves, her auburn bob of glossy hair. The sickening swill I swallowed of loyalty, best friends forever. I can't believe how ever was I taken in by her? Friends say you're always the last to know, they're right. Oh it's now a fickle, faithless world.

But let me say this: see how long this one lasts!

Katrina