stranger

I’m supposed to be your only, but you make me feel like a side dude— standing outside the window watching a relationship I’m somehow not a part of.

Crazy how I can hold your hand and still feel single. How strangers get conversations, attention, softness… that I gotta beg for in private.

Loving you started feeling like waiting for my turn in a place I helped build. Like I gotta compete for attention that was supposed to come natural.

And that kind of pain? Quiet. Embarrassing.

’Cause how you make somebody feel lonely while laying right beside them? How you look me in my eyes and still make me question if I’m loved or just available.