It’s hard loving you when you love two. You love the man you’re with, and me. Me being the second thought, the second realization, the second desire. I let you slip away when I had you right where I’ve wanted you all my life. I could sit with you for the rest of eternity and just focus on how you talk and look at me. The way you ponder my replies to what could be misheard. The way you ponder my body seeing me as more than I could ever think of myself. I know you don’t think you can speak to me, not now at least you said, but I hear everything you say in the looks you give. When you think I don’t notice when I’m picking a book or movie, but I really come for the feeling of you staring. Catching you in the act with your hand under your chin, thinking of how it once was. How it could be. How we could be together.