In this love of ours, you benched me.
Not loudly, not cruelly,
but quietly enough to make me doubt myself.
I feel like a side piece in a story
I thought I was the main character of.
You said you loved me,
but love shouldn't feel this invisible.
I don't feel it in your words,
they arrive late, thin, and unsure.
I don't see it in your actions,
they hesitate where they should rush,
they pause where they should choose.
And I'm tired of translating silence into excuses.
Tired of understanding your side
while mine remains unseen, unheard, untouched.
Understanding became my full-time job,
while being loved felt like a temporary contract
easy to pause, easy to forget.
I stood on the sidelines of your life,
watching you show up everywhere else with certainty,
wondering why loving me felt optional to you.
I waited for reassurance,
waited for consistency,
waited for you to notice
that I was slowly disappearing right in front of you.
You never benched me with your words,
you did it with your absence.
With the way you chose convenience over care,
distance over effort,
and comfort over commitment.
So no, I don't want to understand your side anymore.
Not when you never bothered to notice mine.
Not when my feelings had to compete
with your distractions.
Not when loving you meant shrinking myself
just to stay in the game.
I deserve a love where I'm chosen openly,
played proudly,
and held like I matter.
Not a love where I'm kept waiting,
hoping the coach remembers
I was ever part of the team at all.