Behind Closed Doors

You,me a room; closed doors.
Sweat and heavy breaths.
Clothes on the floor.

Text messages daily.
***** pictures.
But don't you dare show me any affection in a public setting;
Treat me like your mistress.

What was the excuse? A racial barrier.
I would never give you an ultimatum. I know I'd loose.
I keep forgetting that I'm just second option to you.

I'm your stress release.
Your experimentation.
We both know that unlike me she has limitations.

I ask now how I could move up and switch ranks.
Should I request an interview, or do I not stand a chance.
I'm just so sick of being your second option.