My Number Three

Sweet smelling liqour and gushing words,

Pretty ones intoxicating my being,

Noises from the outside: birds,

Singing gayly: ignoring what they're seeing.

And you're making me believe I am what you keep telling me,

Strong arms and the smell of smoke in your hair,

Taking you by your hand and leading you to be,

Behaviour so unlike mine but I don't even care.

The way you talked to her made me feel like a queen,

And even though I'm not,

There and then I was to your scene.

Worshipped and caressed like you couldn't love another more,

Love being a strong word in its loosest terms,

For the dance we shared.

Looking at me in a way that if I cared would break me,

I try to enjoy myself but all I can see is how much you care,

And it hurts as you're just my number three.

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