Frustrated

I told myself that I wouldn't write another poem about her
So instead i'll write one about how frustrated i am
Frustrated that she lied to me
Frustrated that she's happier with me gone
Frustrated that when she isn't tearing out my heart and spitting on it, she's still so fun and friendly and attractive
Frustrated that the one upside of losing her was escaping the judgmental attitude that she suddenly dropped anyway
Frustrated that i used poetry to get over her and now she writes more than me
Frustrated that so many people love her and no one loves me
Frustrated that she still pretends to care
Frustrated that i ever believed her
Frustrated that i know i'm lying when i say i don't miss her any more
Frustrated that she barely had to think it over
Frustrated that other men are touching her
But this isn't a poem about her
It's about my frustration.