I’m no trophy wife.
They’ve made that abundantly clear. I wasn’t made for a broadcasted love.
Rather, a closed-door intimacy.
I’m no reward, nor prize. Just a benefit. Simply convenience. A mere utility at most.
I was made to pour tsunamis of my love into those who wouldn’t give me a drizzle.
I was made to shower flowers into their full potential.
Never meant to hold that level of beauty. Never meant to be paraded.
I was made for a quiet love. For their ears will not accept my decibels.
Far of today’s standards. One size fits none. I don’t fit the mold.
Not within the beholder’s bracket. A pattern often overseen.
Sometimes confused into thinking I deserve more, I slightly raise the bar.
They limbo under, only proving I was never worth the trouble.
I was made for secrets.
Not for dangling.
Not for flaunting.
For they are never proud enough to show me off.