A face on a screen,
seen for only a moment.
Blonde hair and
a pretty smile and
an unseen message
waiting on her lips.
And I don’t know
if I’m jealous or not.

I should be.

But your face
keeps rising
from the early morning mist
on my drive to work
or in a name of a new acquaintance
or character in a story.
You are my weakness
and I should be jealous.
I should be crying
or asking questions,
but I’m not
because I want your fingers
and he wants hers.

Or maybe he doesn’t,
but he also doesn’t want mine.
His touch doesn’t have passion,
his kisses are
uniform and neutral.
We are broken
and I don’t know
if we can fix it.
I don’t know
if we want to.
But I do know how much
I love him…
and I can’t forget that

I love you more.


4 thoughts on “More

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