Second

That one second,
minute, hour
it took for love to begin.
Or did it end?
For me, I had hoped
it wasn't the latter.
I fear it might have been.

You still hold her
tight in your mind,
your heart, your soul.
I cannot live up
to what she was; is.
I will always be second,
while you hold first in my life.

Subconsciously, I know
when she beckons,
I will be left alone
drowning in the tears
shed for you;
cuts bleeding for you;
heart yearning for you.


Do I stay, and torture you
with what could have been?
Or do I leave, and never know
what we could be?