Letters from Xhale the magazine Words that breathe. Stories that Linger,

I know your heart belongs
to so many things—
the ones who need you,
the ones you love.

And I understand
that you wear so many names:

the woman who gives
until there’s little left.

But sometimes, my love,
I wonder where I fit.

Because when I’m in your arms,
the world disappears.
Your touch, and maybe your kiss,
the way you hold me—
in those moments,
I feel like I’m everything.

Then the moment ends,
and life calls you back.

Then I’m left wondering
how someone can mean so much to me
while I feel like
the last name on her list.

I don’t need to be first
in every part of your life.

I just want to know
that somewhere in that beautiful heart of yours,
is there a place
that belongs to me.

Or should I remain

In last place

But on your list.