Am I angry?

Yes, but what can really be accomplished

by admitting it to you, now?

Am I disappointed?

Of course I am; I thought that

we were past all of this childish,

impulsive nonsense.

But I'll just shake my head,

feign a smile, tell you it's all fine.

You feel bad enough (don't you?)

without me encouraging your state of mind.

Every time we have another misstep,

another lapse of good judgment-

The doubt in the back of my mind

(shriveled as it is, from the good times)

stabs at my conscious, painfully.

Some would say that I'm justified

in hiding my disappointed, my anger

from you, like I do.

"It's the woman's job to give, to endure,

to wait, to be patient, ever the lenient one."

I've never held to the gender roles

that've been set before me,

but maybe there's less grief and conflict

if I adhered to just that one.

So I'll let you think that such a big deal,

isn't really one at all,

and that it didn't upset me as much

as you suspect it probably did.