The person I hate

is like a piece of sellotape:

stuck to my fingers

and won’t let go.

A voicemail vitriol

is like an online vicious troll

even from a woman old

enough to know better.

My buttons pressed

I’m trying to guess:

is it what I resist

continuing to persist?

I fear that her tone,

all imperious and throne

is what I’m like when cross.

Hiding loneliness and loss?