I’ve realized I am an option to you,

Something to easily push and pull away,

When the wind changes and doesn’t suit,

You retreat and put me on mute

Someone to tease and play around with, as a temporary high,

You keep me sweet, in order to have an option on a lonely night,

With no intentions of making it right,

I am not part of your everyday, merely included when you need to butter me up for your needs.

But what about mine? When do I get to cry foul?

Or can I only pick up the scraps of your attention?

Is that all that you’re offering?

Do I cross your mind?

Do you sneak away to throw me a bone to tide me over and shut me out in the cold?

You don’t care how I feel because you don’t think I have another choice.

All the while, you treat me like I that’s all I am. An option.

March 2019-R1

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