Poems.

Seconds.

Choices.
I'm never the first,
sometimes, not even the second.
Maybe the fifth or twelfth.
You paired me up with him.
Your "left overs" so to say, considering that you've already impacted him in some way.
But at the time, I didn't care.
I was in a different state of mind, I guess.
And reflecting now, I notice the things I should have seen.
When you asked, "what should I talk to her about?"
I came up with easily fifty topics or questions that you could bring up, (within a minute), and I don't know what happened with me, I- I got really frustrated.
And started talking about dogs.
And weird traits of our dogs.
But you didn't seem to notice that I was upset, so I probably should have been weary from the start- not even the start.
Before the beginning.
But I wouldn't know that, because I'm only a second choice.