Always wondered
what it'd be like to be
the one you came home to
the one you see
when those eyes open
to the morning sun
what it'd be like
to be the one
you kissed good-night
and held to tight.
I've only known you
at a distance
never pulled you close
without resistance.
I understand.
I accept my role.
I'm only a piece
of what makes you whole.
I'm not your life;
you're not my wife.
It's never "just us,"
it's deadlines and lust.
It's sharing my love
through stolen moments;
given my fantasy
and allowed to own it.
I want to make you scream
at a moment's demand
but I only get whispers
when you're with your man.
Limited time
to touch and fear
Unlimited rhymes
to draw you near
But, even these
have turned to guilt
and the white flowers of passion
are beginning to wilt.
My rhymes are my life
and I'm showing you inside
my passionate anger & pain
only because you cry.
It weeps inside,
my precious pain,
it colors my days
like Portland rain.
The color of our love
within all shades of grey
bittersweet winter skies
hold my life in sway.
012110~11.37p
First off, this was well before I'd ever heard of "50 shades" so that line is not referencing that vanilla farce of lameness.
This is about being the "other man" and how I dealt and processed being "second" to another.
It was hard, but now we are together and life is good. Patience and love won out.