What's a guy like you doing with a man like that, you ask
You mind, I love him, she says, I really do.
Now look, he may have forgotten my birthday yesterday,
he was busy, I can tell. So what?
So nothing.
Except that you can't believe it's really her
The girl who had declared that the man who didn't treat her right
Would lose his marbles down there.
Ten years later, she sells her soul to a wimp.
Tch, tch.
Shalini Rao
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-feminist/
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