Silver’s For Second Place.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Silver’s for second place. The place on the podium is lower. The glory just out of reach. I won’t be a fallback. A failsafe. Someone to talk to when everyone else is quiet. A guaranteed reply when the other guy is elsewhere. I’m not that guy, I won’t be, I’m sorry.

Don’t think I haven’t seen the tags, the comments, the cute little yellow smiley faces late at night. I’m no mug. I’ve shared a heart before and life is too busy to be the other guy. I’m not sharing anymore.

You see, I’ve always been attracted to the human condition. The people with problems, the ones I think I can save, the broken ones. As if I can press my hands against the wounds, talk you round, bring you back to me. But the truth is I can’t. As much as I try I just can’t.

But what I would do! I’d punch glass into paste,  pour oil into my eyes, offer myself to the vultures to pick my bones and return me to nature, the only thing I can truly rely on. I’d put my hands into the fire, crawl through the wire, smash my feet into a thousand pieces and drag myself to you. I’d bleed myself paper dry, and boil the blood into a perfect ruby to wear around your beautiful neck.

But through all this, he’s still there. He fills your nights with conversation while I collapse from exhaustion, sleeping fitfully in these boiling hot sheets. And he probably had your heart before I ever did, if I ever did.

If we dusted your heart for fingerprints we’d only find his.