Other

Where are you?
The only arms I will ever cry in are yours,
but I can’t get your attention.
You always disappear while I’m always waiting,
sick of comforting myself when my patience runs out,
what kind of lover do you take me for?
What do I matter to you
when plans are meaningless?
Time after time, it’s always something,
some distraction, some side stop.
Are they somethings that you’d rather do?
Or somethings you forgot?
Am I too much, too hard to love?
Or not harsh enough for priority?
Maybe I am not clear enough
when asking for your time.
I help you through depression and doubts,
so why am I alone in mine?
When I finally get my allotment of attention
there is always something for you to do first.
Always. Something.
There’s no contest when it comes to seduction.
You say you want me, but in what ways?
If I led you to my bed I’d have your attention
but you are too busy if I ask for conversation.
People are flawed, neither of us are perfect.
I understand scheduling differences,
and how you are tired or have something to do.
I know times are tough, and that I am not
the only person in the world who wants you.
I realize that distractions happen, but
I feel like I am the distraction and the rest of the world
is what you want to be paying attention to.
You can be late, things can come up,
but I don’t know how many more times
I will still let you in when I ask you to breakfast
and you show up to dinner.
You are my love, my light, and my laughter.
I would like to be your significant other,
but I am not significant,
so I guess I am just your other.