I am wallpaper,
Accenting the furniture that actually gets touched.
I am the vase,
Holding the flowers everyone marvels at.
I am an the “ands” and “thes” of the world,
Always there but never looked at until the adjectives,
nouns, and verbs are taken out of the picture.
I am the pinky finger,
Always next to the ring finger but never there.
I am the alcohol,
That one drinks when “love” didn’t work out.
I am the raisons of the trail mix,
Only eaten when everything else is gone, and people are
hungry.
I am alone,
Sitting here in my bed, wishing I was the girl people saw
first.
I am praying,
That maybe I can feel that love again for someone.
I am hoping,
That I am not a second thought to everyone who meets me, I’m
not the fall back, or the rebound.
I am crying,
Because I don’t know how to be that girl.
I am not that girl,
That attracts attention that commands a room, which pulls at
men’s thoughts.
