angry...i don't know how this will turn out. this is also my first attempt at a poem in a long time. i'm very rusty.

i'm downstairs, and yet i can hear the sound loud and clear.
over and over, almost never ceasing, and
every time i hear it i want to break something.
she doesn't belong to you.
i've known her longer than you have.
how could she let you take her over in such a way?
when you're not here, she's fine, the greatest mom ever.
the second you pull up to the house, she changes.
the oversexed woman i can't stand, who's almost
always kissing you and holding you and touching you.
the woman that you own in every way.
the woman you stole from me.
she doesn't care about me when you're around, because
you don't.
just because you're older than me,
it doesn't mean that i can be your verbal punching bag.
just because you married her,
it doesn't mean that you can make her not care about what
i want.
that slapping sound hurts me so much.
you used to pretend like i didn't know what that meant,
slapping her butt, constantly, over and over.
you know what that is, what it makes her think about.
that's why when you're home, i don't get a second thought.
you wonder why i'm depressed?
you wonder why i cringe whenever you touch me,
scream inside everytime you touch mine?
you wonder why i'm crying?
why i've never told you that i love you?
(i don't love you, even though you're convinced i do.)
because you're here.
because you're alive.
because i have to live with you.
because the thing i'm supposed to call you has the word
father in it, even though i don't think you
deserve a name.
because you torture me almost every day, and sometimes,
i'm on the brink of hating you, even though it would
hurt her beyond belief.