The Other Man

I run my hands through my hair and yawn myself awake as I do every morning before I stumble into my slippers and head towards the coffee machine.

This morning was different, first of all I had woken up later than usual and not in the comfort of my own bedroom.

I looked to my right and there she was, so peaceful.

Her rosy red cheeks and pale porcelain skin glowed in the light streeming from the bedroom blinds.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, following the long dark hair as it spread across both pillows.

She is kind, caring and has a personality that fills an empty room.

She is unique and puts a smile on my face without saying a word.

She is my reason to keep going and the rope that holds me together.

This woman is my obsession, I think about her every night before I fall asleep, every spear second I get through the day and she is the first thing that crosses my mind in the morning.

But to her, I am nothing.

I am the one she cries to when she falls out with her boyfriend, I am the one who picks her up after a long day.

I am the one that never gets to show her off in public or take her on vacation.

I am the one that has to sneak around and wait for her to call me.

I am the one that wakes up alone nearly every morning with only one thing on my mind.

I am the one that will never be able to call her mine.

I am the one that yawns himself awake before stumbling into my slippers and heading for the coffee machine. I am the other man.


Charlotte Louise.

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