Revenge Served Cold

i can't say what
i want to really
say. to drop a letter in
the mail
a satchel of pictures
and things, evidence
of her past and present deceitful
nature,
to show people who she really
is.
i can't take the actions
that i really want to do,
to get even, to make myself
feel better
and avenged for the living
hell she put me through.
I can't tell the whole world
the truth about who she really is,
although it's tempting
when it crosses my mind
and pricks a nerve.
as they say,
revenge is best served
cold. but if i did
fragile lives would change.
the truth would be known,
she'd be homeless
and on the street with her
pill filled
bags and phone.
all hell would break loose.
even the church would finally know.
but what's the point.
why stoop to that level
and become like her.
let her live
in the muck of who she is.
a liar, betrayer, a fake.
an adulterer,
a pretender and such.
let her
sleep in the bed she's made.
a wolf in sheep's clothing.
fuck her and the horse she
rode in on.
bite your lip and take
the higher road,
leave her sordid life alone,
it's not who you are,
it's who she is
and always will be.