A Woman Scorned

Sort of a jab at soaps and the women hooked on them

She sits and seethes,
Anger etching her already stern features.
The rage continues to build within,
Witnessing the stupidity of two dull creatures.
Faces devoid of emotion, no tone but one spoken;
Each speaks to the other as naught but a token.
No resolution is found,
Each goes their own way,
Leaving a woman in a fit of rage who is
Always so composed.
Why, why in God's name
Won't Valerie and Thomas admit their love?