Subsequent Lover

I'm not the type

of person who might

be seen on the street and thought

love at first sight.

I'm remarkably plain

fit and muscular for sure

but my face, to be seen,

gathers none to confer.

It's my mind and my words

which levy the heart,

but to find and be seen

was the task from the start.

I'm the person you meet

when you've run out of love;

you've conceded defeat

and relinquished the dove.

Not worth full affection;

just...secondary.

A shadow concession;

my worth...it varies.

And that's what hurts;

what breaks my will.

That I was invisible;

AM invisible...still.

On the podium of love

I'm disqualified from first;

a stranger to the moment

the heart learns to burst.

My identity remains

hidden under cover.

I sing my refrain.

Yours,

Subsequent Lover