When I was in love and unhappy, I made excuses for myself,
as I made excuses for the reasons he put me on a shelf.
He didn’t want to play with me until I shined in your eyes,
He placed me away, and silenced my uncertainty with lies.
But he kept me, He had me, and kept me satisfied,
even if I told the world I was unhappy… I stayed, and tried.
For if I was truly at wits end, I’d have left,
but I made excuses for him, and for myself.
It was “complicated”,
I was in love, and apparently had no other desire,
as I played by myself, when he played with the fire.
As my eyes began to wander, I said to my mind,
“this too shall pass”, yet I am not blind.
But when I began to see with my soul, and it moved my body,
to be in HIS arms,
I began to make excuses for myself, being lured by his charm.
Unrequited love, an unhealthy affliction,
in love yet craving another addiction…
In HIS eyes I see the Universe, and places I’ve never been,
In his arms I have infinity, in his lips I have Zen.
So now, as I stare at a man that says my same lines,
whom hasn’t touched my body, but touches my mind.
Wanting his time, his moment, his space,
to see him without her, to just touch his face.
To have possibilities instead of restrictions,
to have him with me instead of afflictions.
If he wanted to leave her, and was at his wit’s end,
he’d let me complete as his lover and as his friend.
Infatuated, eager, and months I have waited,
as he looks to me and says with distinction, “it’s just complicated”.