Second place

When you said you never loved anyone

As much as you loved her —

Why did I pursue?

Why did I think I could

Make you love me more

By being kind or calm or patient

Or whatever else you saw in me that moved you?

And then, when you didn’t,

Why was I content with second place?

Did knowing you loved someone more

Give me some secret thrill,

Keep me guessing, keep it fresh?

Clearly there is a place for second place

That I have yet to understand.