I gave you compliments like flowers,
poured my attention on you like frankincense and myrrh,
stayed in your eyes like they were worth more than your crimes and awkwardness combined-
I chose you, and I made you mine.
So though I never loved you, I loved you first.
You returned the favor like it’d been a double portion.
And when I served my “Not now,” you gave a “Goodbye,” saying they
would love you. But your first lover was I-
I, the first soul you knew as though it were a name-
You cared and respected like an arctic haven, desert spring.
I’d been given flowers like you gave me time,
but while I was your first to love you,
you were mine.