i was sick of being
put in a box
labelled, ready to send.

i looked up holidays,
knowing if i didn’t stop,
i’d drop dead.

but even the thought
of going felt too much.

still, i clicked complete.
seats reserved
on the eurostar.

anything else
than being the other woman —
the one people fall for
when their hearts
should be sealed,
not crossed.

i need to reclaim
some of my old self
i’ve lost along the way.
maybe that’s a start.

it’s got to be enough.