I’m actually not the first
And may not be the last.
Let me not get too excited,
But make room for disappointments.
I will still love you like I do,
But I don’t want to overdo.
I sometimes wish to put a spell
On you so you can get caught up in my only cell.
I may not show every day,
The days I don’t show are the days
I think about you even more.
Who knows you moved on?
Who knows I’m held hostage,
Just to keep it average.
The love I have for you is unsaid, unseen and unconscionable.
But also unexceptional in a way.
I may not see you every day
But gain more love day by day
I have too many “what if’s”
And too many rhetorical questions.
Should I carry on? Or you will bury me soon?