1

A heartfelt maybe
of being more than you wanted me to be
or being too much you couldn’t hold
without me getting close enough
to finally meet you.

I ached to be felt
and you
were addicted to feeling like you were
(somewhere else.)

Where touch hurt too much, me:
swept under the rug like
powder, white
while I waited by the phone
thinking you were
thinking of me.

Silly, thinking I was the centrepiece
but only being the accent pillow
to brighten up a room,
once and a while;
a soft cloud to lay your head
only when you wanted to.

Maybe maybe was really enough
maybe in another life
maybe we could be happy
even if I asked for more
and more and more
and more.

You would’ve put that pillow in the middle
pushed everything aside
to offer me that space within you.

You would’ve made room
for me.