I’m not the first, or the last

I’m one in the middle somewhere.

Someone you could call to make you laugh, just not first

Or last.

I’m someone so desperate it’s disgusting

And you know it.

It scares you I’m sure

Just as it does me, the uncertainty

Of not being first or last.

In all relationship races I place

Third or fourth.

People call it comfortable and yet

It is far from it. Third isn’t

First or last, it isn’t a shiny trophy

Or pat on the back, it’s lonely.

Do I learn? Do I protest?

Or continue in third, doing my best?

I’m not the first, or the last

I’m one in the middle somewhere.

Someone you could call to make you laugh, just not first

Or last.

Advertisements