chosen

If you're not the same as the others,

then why is there a long list,

of names,

profile pictures,

you follow.

I zoom in on these single photos,

grasping at details,

that aren't there,

and honing in on ones that are.

A tan girl,

posed seductively,

black hair,

slightly older, 

is she your type?

I never would've known.

she's beautiful,

but she's not me.

Another girl,

pale,

short brown bob,

indie,

she looks outgoing,

is she your type?

She's beautiful,

but she's not me.

Another,

carefree looking,

put together,

she's beautiful,

but she's not me.

Do you know these people?

I gather you do not,

but I could hope that you do,

friends of friends would be ideal.

but it seems,

like these are people are off dating apps?

are you on them?

or perhaps you found  them through the explore page,

searched for them even?

what do you get from this?

what do you desire?

why do you desire this?

how are you like this after so little time?

A quick look,

and I see,

you are,

a mere follower,

not a connection,

or friend, 

but a watcher,

are you watching them as I watch you?

I was once one of these.

Did I only become yours,

because I responded?

Could it have been one of them?

and will it now be?

Is all you want,

desire,

based on who chooses you?

who fills your need,

to be loved,

wanted,

chosen.

I was chosen,

by you,

because I,

chose you.

And I chose you, for you,

I wish you had done the same for me,

you desperation slipped through and you panicked,

rushed,

connected yourself to me,

as you wanted someone, 

to want you,

you wanted someone,

just someone. 

I believe you wanted me at one point,

but I doubt your true intentions were to choose me.

Over time,

did you loose attraction?

interest in me?

or did you have a realisation I was never what you wanted,

but what coincidentally was in front of you,

at the wrong time,

wrong place,

wrong heart,

but chosen.