from all the men in music
the tales of unrequited love spew
and you relate to them
and pity them
and hope they get what they want
what you want
but I am not a "what"—
I am a girl,
the girl in between
no one's written a song
for the girl in between
and so, I must
and these are the fairest
words I can find
to describe how it feels
to be that girl

it feels
like my body's worn thin,
become your tugging rope
like the sharp teeth of two dogs
are latched to either end of me
and powerful muscles
pull in opposite directions,
wearing me thinner and thinner.
and weak,
and helpless am I,
because when the rope gets tired,
it can't quit playing
it's forced to wait until
the end of the energy
and interest of the animals
and then,
forced to fall
forced to await
and, despicably, look forward to
the relative solace
of the mud below
where it will lie,
forgotten, for now.
until again,
the beasts come out to play.