Last

She chooses wisely who she lets in her life now, or at least that is what she tells herself.

 

 

 

“I’m just of being hurt.” She says when asked,

“I’m tired but not from lack of sleep.

“I’m just tired of being the last.”

 

She’s the last one he calls,

And the last one they invite,

And by golly all she wants to be,

Is not last for one night.

 

To be somebody’s first call,

And first thought when they open their eyes,

“That,” she tells herself,

“Will be worth all the goodbyes.”

But she’s still last in contacts,

Because of her ending name,

And she always smiles at the excuses,

Thinking, “These people are all the same.”

They don’t want to hurt me by saying,

I’m their last thought,

And I’m hoping that someday,

I’ll find a person whose I’m not.

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