It’s moving but I know it’s never going to be my turn.
I am the 3am phone calls, the tear-streaked confessions and angry monologues,
the guardian of secrets, the healer of wounds, the wisest of sages,
I am merely a placeholder until someone better comes along.
I am your crutch, your splint; when someone reaches in, cracks your ribs and breaks your heart,
but only ever a temporary importance, until your wounds scab over and your bones mend.
I am the first person you run to but never the one you choose.
I am the one who fixes you but never good enough to make you stay.
I don’t understand,
why you insist on finding someone who loves you the way I already do,
why you keep looking for what’s already in front of you,
why you would give everyone a chance but me.
I know love is blind but Cupid, did you get her in the eyes?
Is that why she doesn’t see me?
I thought I’d let you know that I am tired,
of being good but not good enough,
of being close but never close enough,
of always being in the blind spot of your love.
Tired of making you my forever when I am your never.
Every time I want to give up playing this game that I cannot win, you keep offering me token after token, asking me to
insert credit try again, insert credit try again, insert credit try again
I thought I’d let you know that I don’t want to play anymore.
Let me in or let me go.