Lover in the Background

to those who love someone who belongs to the world

A day feels like mist of the wee hours,
once again I regale myself with
the buzz and the fuss
Coaxing my heart out of sulking
for it is an utter melancholy
and slightly a jest
TO MISS THE WIND KEENLY FELT
BUT CANNOT BE GRASPED

A tad mockery to be often left
by my own home as though giving away
is almost granting the world a consent
to steal from me

Yet I live through those tiny pleasures and loud celebrations ceaselessly shining your humble crown
for even my heart then stands on the highest pedestal