Second Place.

(Recurring thought, and I left this note sitting in my phone notes for a couple of months. I never know what to say that might possibly try to accurately articulate what I want to say.) 

Filled to the brim 

Bursting at loose seams 

Giving green lights to promises of a better future

Day and night; mere concepts and ticking numbers you do not abide 

Running only on caffeine – the new form of adrenaline and sleep 

Eyes turn to wrinkled luggage and excessive 

Baggage of premature responsibility and forgotten passion

Subconsciously courting distance and mistaking it for monotonous love

I turn to walk away, to give space and 

To take second place. 

Accepting this fate and avoiding to witness the inevitable

Breakdown of a man I used to know and 

Hold close. 


What do you do when you 


For a man that is consumed by his art; you 

Became the muse and not the lover 

But the hole is so deep you 






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