"Nothing is sacred" you said, ask away....
Favourite band, colour, song, film, book, poet, author,the list went on
Favourite food, soda, cocktail, ****** position, animal, vegetable, fruit, smell, season, singer, songwriter, tv show..
This endless list of inane questions, hiding the one stuck in my throat like bitter bile.
"What do you see in him?"
Thats the big money question, the answer eludes me whenever I see you together.
Maybe your dappled green sees beauty where my clear blue sees too much ego.
Maybe your heart sings when he kisses your forehead, while my lips ache for the chance.
He doesn't see you, not really, not the you that howls with laughter, head back, snorting with each inhale.
Not the you that pulls weird faces when I take serious calls.
Not the you that I wish was mine...
Only mine.
He makes you different...
Quiet, subdued, Stepford wife.
A good girl. A closed book.
Ignoring his eyes while they wander,
as you avoid the love so obviously in mine.
"Ask me anything" tripped off your tongue
While your expression and the way you shifted said
"Just don't ask me that"
Nothing is sacred.
Except you.