We were never an inch
closer; to what could have been.
A repetitive game of trying to reach
Is it my fault I spread myself too thin?
A close second to be yours
Thinking all the spaces were filled
You got me for two years,
all locked up and unfulfilled.
Done crossing the finished line
Came in last and unsurprised
You were never mine.
I went home with no prize.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
We were never an inch
closer; to what could have been.
A repetitive game of trying to reach
Is it my fault I spread myself too thin?
A close second to be yours
Thinking all the spaces were filled
You got me for two years,
all locked up and unfulfilled.
Done crossing the finished line
Came in last and unsurprised
You were never mine.
I went home with no prize.
